Endure and Defy
by LissieKay
Summary: She wouldn't sleep. All those hours in that camp and she wouldn't sleep. So neither would he. Then she tried to crawl into his skin she was so frantic to get close to him. Her whimpering evened out, her tears dried, and she slept. So he did too.
1. Sleep My Stubborn

**[] This is Endure and Defy, a story I have been contemplating writing for some time. It will become a multichapter fic, as long as nothing drastic happens, and may turn into an eventual M rating. For now though, we are here with chapter one, a bit of a post ep for Truth and Consequences. Enjoy. **

**[] As normal-none of the characters are mine, I will return them unharmed and perhaps a bit more happy **

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She wouldn't sleep. Apparently wasn't even going to consider it. Just kept sitting there with her eyes getting all tired and trying to close on her and her body jerking itself back out of the rest it obviously needed. She wouldn't lay her head down either. Wouldn't let her back unwind from whatever coil she'd got it set in. Perfect posture that looked outright painful to him. McGee was asleep, snoring like a tiny teacup McPoodle. But Ziva was still sitting in that damn chair, straight up and down with her eyes open like she was afraid someone was going to kill her while she wasn't looking. The minute the thought crossed his mind he winced. That probably wasn't too far off the mark and that was just scary and terrifying and fodder for all sorts of nightmares.

And because she wouldn't go to sleep neither would he. He was sitting in his chair with his eyes going all slack and then snapping back open as he watched her do the same thing. Nope, if Ziva wasn't sleeping then neither was he. She could just consider him her new shadow for all he cared because if someone else decided to drag her off into the middle of freaking Somalia then he sure as hell was going too. 'No survivors' was way too hard a pill to swallow for him to willingly do it again. Her eyelids fell again, hid her brown eyes for the briefest of seconds and then snapped open again. Stubborn woman, he sighed and switched hands. Unlike her, his head felt way too heavy to stay up using only the support of his neck.

She shifted the tiniest of bits in the chair and her face muscles moved for just a second. That had been pain, or he thought it had, then again, her mask had gotten so much better sense the last time he had seen her he wasn't really sure at all anymore. The doctor had said she was okay to fly before they'd hopped on board this very large US Air Force bird. Bruised ribs, concussions, healing fractures, abrasions, stitches, bruises and contusions and a whole host of infections and everything had been in plural and the list had been so _long. _The whole 'she'll be fine' sentence at the end of it all had only made him want to slug the guy. Unfortunately his slugging ability was going to be impaired for a bit; all his muscles felt like warm grape jelly. And what he wouldn't give for some warm grape jelly spread on a biscuit with some coffee served on a room service tray right after he had gotten out of bed. Course, that would mean he would have slept. And he definitely hadn't done any of that lately.

And neither had she and that was the whole problem. They were both so damn stubborn that no one was ever going to get any sleep. Just a nap would have been sufficient at this point, a couple of minutes of dreaming about beaches and swimsuits and ice cream cones, not the crazy terrorists that were more likely to- His elbow slipped off the armrest and his head dropped. The motion made his neck pop and he jerked upright. _Oww. _Apparently there had been another part of his body that could hurt. Tony was attempted to tell her she won because this was ridiculous, and he wasn't even really sure what they were competing for or about or whatever the hell they were being stubborn about now.

Not sleeping wasn't really the issue after all, it was some underlying trust or argument or something that he hadn't figured out yet but would have to soon because not doing so meant he would be in the dark on the arguments they were going to have over suspects and interrogations and what color the damn sky was that weren't really about any of that at all. And if he didn't figure out what they were really about then he wasn't going to be able to pretend they weren't about that and talk about them at the same time and God was this confusing. He pressed his hand across his face and immediately regretted the action. There were cuts on his skin, when was he going to get that? Cuts and scrapes and all sorts of bruises and pressing on them was so far from being smart it might as well have been his father acting like a dad.

And his head hurt and all he wanted to do was just _sleep. _But he couldn't do that until she slept and she was still sitting there, blinking like her eyes weren't quite working and her face and body looked so tired and just hurt that it made his body hurt in sympathy. Hell, he might even be able to pull off a little empathy at this point cause he was tired and hurting and yah, not as much as her, but still. She could just hold it together better than he could. She blinked at him and her eyes met his and that was not holding it together at all. The air in his lungs left in a tiny sound that was way too close to a whimper for a guy like him. Blank, empty, hollow, dead. Those sparkling dark eyes of hers looked so scared and scarred that he just wanted to fix it.

Wanted to fix it so badly that he opened his mouth.

"Dinozzo," Gibbs ground out the word and he drug his eyes away from Ziva's to look up at him.

"Boss?"

"Move." It took his muscles longer to obey the command than it should have, but eventually he pushed himself out of the chair and onto his feet. The plane lurched to the left and he stumbled onto McGee's feet. Probie didn't even shift and the puppy-snoring cadence stayed strong. Gibbs had sat down in his chair by the time he'd managed to regain something that was supposed to be balance.

"Over there," Gibbs mumbled, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Go sit next to her Dinozzo. And for God's sake get some sleep." Gibbs lifted one eyelid and stared at Ziva, moved to spear him with the creepy one-eyed gaze. "Both of you."

Now wasn't this great. Go sit next to her. Gibbs might as well have told him to jump out of the plane. He wasn't sure which would be less likely to cause him bodily harm and do the opposite of getting him to sleep. And if Ziva wanted to sit by anyone less than she wanted to sit by him he'd love to know who it was. Maybe Saleem, but they'd left him on a dirt floor next to a warm, spilled Caf-Pow that was mixing with the blood seeping out of his head and Tony didn't think he'd ever seen such a welcome site in his entire life. Except for when they'd brought her in the door and pulled that sack off her head. That had certainly made the whole trip seem a lot more like a real mission and not just a 'hey, let's go kill the bastard that Ziva was trying to get to and see if we can maybe manage to not die at the same time too'.

And it had been really good that Gibbs had been there because his whole plan had really ended in killing Saleem. There had never really been much on his 'now how do we get out of here' stint of the mission. He hadn't really expected to need to get out. Yet here he was staring down at Ziva who was blinking so slow her eyes looked like they weren't working properly and trying to decide if she would kill him if he sat down beside her. Gibbs would kill him if he didn't. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. He'd been intending to die anyways. He dropped down into the seat heavily and groaned when his back screamed at him for the abuse.

If he'd had a bad back before boy was this going to be a treat. Therapy was no longer sounding like something for sissies. Carefully he reached up for the armrest Gibbs had pushed up, trying to avoid locking gazes with Ziva. The plane lurched again, sending him sideways and towards her. The skin of his arm brushed against the hand she had placed on the seat and it was so unexpected and quick that he couldn't help but look at her. Her eyes were still dead, still lifeless and hollow and cold and strangled, but he couldn't force himself to move back, to put the three feet of space back between them. This one foot seemed so close, not that it would have been close at all back then. Back then this would have been work appropriate, not even Gibbs' slap worthy, but now, it seemed so _close. _

She exhaled and the sound was so close to a sob that he froze. He hadn't heard that sound from her before, had never heard her so broken and splintered and hurt and he wanted to fix it so badly. Wanted to pick her up and tell her that it would be all right, even if he didn't know that and she'd accuse him of wishful thinking. She could accuse him of whatever she wanted as long as she stopped looking so hurt and promised him she'd get better. Her inhale was no better than the exhale, shuddering and sharp, it sounded like the air was being scraped across razor blades as it passed into her lungs.

"Ziva-" he whispered, and apparently that was the magic word because she was suddenly scrambling across the seat and burrowing into his body so fiercely it took him a second to figure out if she was trying to hurt him or just trying to get close to him. He settled on the second one when she sob-exhaled again and began frantically clawing at his shirt. Her head hit his chin, her hip dug into his sore left side, the bones of her wrists and back were too close to the top of the skin and he couldn't get the live wire in his arms to calm down.

"Shh, shh, Zi, shh," he murmured nonsense sounds, syllables meant to calm and tried to get his arms out from under her so he could get them around her. Her elbow collided with the funny bone in his arm and he hissed and that single sound of pain from him made her stop moving completely. He froze, afraid she was going to vault right back off of him as fast as she had lunged on to him and way before he was ready for her to move at all. Instead she turned her face very slowly into his chest, clenched her fingers into his shirt so tightly the material pulled at his back and made the scrapes on his skin scream in protest. Tony wouldn't have complained or told her that it hurt when she held onto him like that even if he had to give up quoting movies for a month, because at that second she pulled her legs up to her chin and curled into him like a child or a small kitten and she was so _small _in his arms that it was alarming.

He looked up, trying to figure out what to do with this Ziva that climbed into his lap and breathed in whatever crud he smelled like as she silently cried, and Gibbs was staring at him with a very blank expression on his face.

"Well hold her Dinozzo."

"Right," he mumbled, finally getting his arm free enough to wrap around her. And it was alarming how easy it was to surround her shoulders, and alarming how light she was when he moved her up a bit so that he could slump down in the chair, and outright terrifying how the bones in her face nearly stuck out, and beyond scary that she was whimpering so silently he wasn't sure they were whimpers at all. And that wasn't the worst thing, the worst thing was that even when her breathing had evened out and she'd stopped crying and went just a tiny bit limp in his arms as she finally, _finally, _went to sleep, even then she continued to whimper and when he lay his head back and pulled her just a tiny bit closer it was the sound of her whimpers he timed his breathing to. The sound of her whimpers that he fell asleep to, and the sound of her whimpers and the feel of her fingers clutching his shirt so tightly her fingers would ache when she woke up that he would have nightmares about for months to come.

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**[] Look for chapter two sometime in the next few days, I'm generally fairly fast when I get excited about something, and this has caught my attention. :) **


	2. Finishing Act

**[] Here we are, chapter 2. This one is rather depressing as well I'm afraid, but eventually such a tone should improve. I was astounded at how well chapter 1 was responded to, so I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well. **

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Gibbs had gotten up when the plane landed and come back with a wet handkerchief. And Tony couldn't figure out where he'd gotten a handkerchief on a plane because McGee wouldn't carry one and for some reason he just couldn't imagine Gibbs stuffing a white _handkerchief _into the pocket of his dessert camouflage. But he'd gotten one somewhere and had wiped all the dirt off her face as gently as he sanded his boat. Then he'd shook Ziva until she woke up and told her they were home. She hadn't reacted to that, hadn't moved, winced, blinked, or even breathed, she'd just stared at him like something about his words didn't quite work. Like there was something missing in his sentence; a subject or a verb or something else that was really, really essential. But Tony was pretty sure 'we're home' were the best words he'd ever heard and he wasn't sure which part he liked better, 'we' or 'home'.

In the end she had only muttered two letters and even then her face hadn't changed. The emotionally charged, sleepy, live wire Ziva was gone and someone had replaced her with the new model of walking zombie.

"D.C." It hadn't really been a question, so no one had answered. Then she'd picked her head up off his chest, unwound her fingers and uncoiled her legs, and climbed up out of his lap as though it was something she did all the time and had lots of practice with. It wasn't though, and he didn't have a clue what to do with it. On legs that didn't look at all steady to him she had wobbled to the back of the plane and he'd watched her go, half ready to jump up and try and catch her if she tripped, even if his brain told him that was ridiculous and so totally not possible. He wasn't that fast.

He waited until he heard the door to the bathroom click closed before he turned to Gibbs.

"Boss, I don't know what-"

"You think I do Dinozzo?"

"More than I do for sure. You _get_ her," he swiped a hand across his face and encountered more than a few days worth of stubble. He needed to shave. And shower, and catch up on other general hygiene type things. "And last time I checked I'm not on her list of favorite people."

"You sure as hell better not be feeling sorry for yourself."

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to ask or talk about or not talk about or … anything. And I've gotta know how to act and what to say or I'm gonna screw up again and we'll all be back on some plane again to God knows where trying to make sure somebody else doesn't die. So I'd just really appreciate it if you could tell me what to do and how to do it, cause frankly Gibbs? I don't have a damn clue where to even freaking start." It was Gibbs that ran a hand over his face this time, and Gibbs that exhaled with razor blades scraping his airway and Gibbs that picked up the handkerchief that he'd used to wipe blood, and dirt, and puke, and urine and who knew what else off of Ziva's face, and tossed it to him.

"Cleaning up the mess is a good place to start. Getting rid of the dirt and stuff you can see. After that … well you just wait and wait and then wait some more. Grab your gear, we're getting off this damn plane." And with that he'd picked up his bag full of sniper equipment and kicked at McSleepy's chair. Tiny Tim had jerked awake and instantly mumbled something about not liking Caf-Pow's and terrorists mixed together.

"Plane isn't moving anymore," McGee mumbled and Tony nodded as he flipped the dirty cloth back and forth in his hands.

"Cause we're on the ground now McObvious."

"Where is she?" He nodded at the empty chair Ziva had been sitting in when he'd fallen asleep. Tony smirked, that was right, McGee had missed the little 'crawl into his skin in a way that was definitely not sex related, but was sure as hell going to leave a few marks' episode.

"Dropped her off in Tel Aviv. Daddy dearest missed her so much."

"That isn't funny Tony," he grumbled and reached under his seat to grab his gear, two seconds later he was on his feet and moving towards the exit. "Isn't funny at all."

The bathroom lock clicked seconds later and he was on his feet before she'd gotten the door all the way open; then again he was pretty sure she was moving at something like half speed. Her ninja moves weren't firing all the way and it hurt just to watch her walk. She was moving carefully, shielding her ribs with her inner arm, favoring her left ankle, and it looked so painful he wanted to pick her up and carry her. As if that would go over well.

"They are gone," she stated and he blinked. Even moving at half speed she'd gotten in front of him before he'd had time to get out of contemplative land and get back in hell world part two. The relief at having her back was rapidly being taken over by the anger at ever having her taken away at all. _Never _again. But the last thing she needed right now was anger from him, so he pushed a tiny smile up to the surface for her and took one tiny step towards her because she wasn't really in front of him at all and the space between them was bordering on ten feet and she still looked uncomfortable and cagey.

"Went to see Abby I suspect."

"Abby?"

"Yah."

"She will be glad that you are home." He cocked his head sideways and tried to figure out what she was hiding behind that mask, because the mask was definitely back and so much better than her old one he couldn't even find a sliver to peak through.

"Ziva, she'll be glad _you're _home." The words didn't have the desired effect. In fact she winced so visibly he wished he could take them back. Instead he just pointed towards the door that led out and let her move first so that he didn't get too close to her. Apparently people getting close was going to be an issue, she was practically erecting walls in front of his eyes, and he couldn't imagine how long it was going to be before she let anyone touch her again. Even Gibbs wiping over her bruised cheeks had left her shrinking away, and if he knew anything it was that Ziva trusted Gibbs.

"Come on. They're waiting." But even as he said the words he wasn't sure what they were waiting on, or whom they were waiting on or really if they even knew why they were waiting. It was such a mess all of a sudden. Something that had been so simple and so, not perfect, but at least good, was all twisted and morphed and just out of whack. And he didn't know how to get it all back in line. He just knew that it needed to be put back, the tracks had to be fixed so that the little train cars could get to moving, but he had no idea where the nails were and definitely wasn't holding a hammer.

Ziva stopped cold when her body reached the doorway and he resisted the urge to reach out and touch her back like he would have done a lifetime ago. She just stood, staring at something and he waited for her to figure out that now was when she walked down the stairs and into that car waiting on them. Eventually she did, and he squinted against the too bright sun as he half stumbled down after her. He was still so damn tired. All those minutes that had turned into hours, of sleeping, and sleeping with the very real assurance that she was okay and within arms reach, still hadn't been enough. His head felt like a tiny man had snuck inside with a .45 and was firing off round after round at his skull.

Some kid was driving the car and Gibbs had taken shotgun so they were all going to sit in the back like kids on the way to Sunday school apparently. Ziva wasn't going to like that. McGee had already filed in and was slouching against the doorframe, Tony half jogged the last few steps so he could catch up to her before she slid in.

"Ziva," she didn't even blink, "Ziva," he tried again. This time she looked up at him, didn't meet his eyes, but looked at him just the same. Her line of vision was somewhere over his left shoulder. "Let me get in first." For her he'd deal with the middle seat and the leg cramps he was going to end up with from scrunching his knees up to his significant sideburns.

She didn't say anything, but he didn't expect her to. And it took her just a little too long to get in the car after him and swing the door closed. When she did Gibbs nodded to the driver and looked behind him to spear Ziva with a glance.

"Seatbelt Ziver." She mechanically did as he said. "And eat." A package of peanut M&M's came sailing over the seat and landed in her lap. She just stared at them as though she was expecting them to explode or life-size terrorists with guns to come crawling out. Tony remembered a time when they'd been her favorite and she'd fought tooth and nail for the dang things. Now he didn't lose a finger when he reached over and opened the bag. The ride to the Navy Yard was silent. Engine on the car running. McGee texting. Ziva's M&M bag crinkling every time she reached in and tugged out a single candy. It made the headache worse when she coughed at how hard it was to get the chocolate down.

When some of the buildings became familiar Gibbs looked back at them and eyed the bag in her lap.

"Whole bag Ziva." The look she gave him when Gibbs turned back around nearly broke his heart. Tony swallowed hard and reached for the bag, as quietly as possible he poured half of it into his own palm and popped the whole handful into his mouth. He'd be cool if she ate half the 270 odd calories personally. It was probably more than she'd had in days and he really didn't like that thought so he wasn't going to think about it very closely while she was still so skinny he could see her cheekbones way better than he should have been able to. The car stopped in the garage and the next second Ziva was yanking the door open and sticking her head outside so she could vomit.

He lurched sideways and grabbed for her hair and tried to very gently touch her back. This was pure hell. He wanted to pick her up and hold her until she got better. He wanted to shield her and tell Gibbs that the only place Ziva was going today was home so that she could have a really hot bath with bubbles, and lotion and whatever other smelly stuff she wanted. He wanted to hold her and tell her everything was going to be fine and that he was really, really, really glad she was back and okay and with them. But he would do none of that. He would hold her hair back while she barfed up the six M&M's that she had eaten and accept the napkins that McGee handed him so she could wipe her mouth. And then he would stop touching her and let her climb out of the car on her own.

And he'd try not to step in the vomit on the pavement and try not to think about how little food she had eaten that would cause _six _M&M's to be too much for her stomach. He'd suck it up and just deal, because he didn't really have a choice. McGee and Gibbs had climbed out of the car by the time she'd stopped heaving and Gibbs was standing there with his fingers out, waiting for her to take them. And Tony guessed that she did only because he assumed she would.

"We'll get you some water inside." They were the last words anyone said about it. And then they were on the elevator and it felt so weird and wrong and normal and horrible that he couldn't help but wonder what on earth they were going to do now. And somehow he hated that everyone clapped; as though they'd put on some grand show and this was the finishing act. Because if this was the ending he was pretty sure it would classify as a tragedy, even if they had brought the girl back. Brought his girl back. Cause he definitely thought of her that way even though she wasn't. Not really, and never had been, probably never would be. He dropped into his desk chair and leaned back, surveying the closing scene of this act.

Abby stood there holding her. Gibbs placed his bag on his desk. McGee just looked grateful to be back. Ducky, God bless Ducky, didn't say a thing and just stood there waiting for everyone to get their hands off Ziva long enough for him to take a look at her. And he felt so tired and exhausted all of a sudden that he let his eyes close for half a second. Then he realized that he couldn't see her with his eyes closed, could only see the chair they had sat her on in the middle of the desert. And the hood they had pulled off her head, and her hair hanging limp around her way too thin face, and her eyes … dead, tired, defeated eyes, staring at him as though he was an unwelcome ghost.

So he opened his eyes again and pushed his hand into his pocket where he'd put the damn handkerchief. Covered in dirt and no longer really white. He caught her eye over Abby's shoulder and just stared. Something flickered in her eyes and he felt hope. Cleaning up the dirt was a good place to start, and Gibbs had missed a spot on her cheek. He could start there.

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**[] At least Tony now has some inkling of hope and direction now, I always imagined that he floundered quite a bit when Ziva first came back. Chapter 3 is in the works! **


	3. Exhibition 1

**[] Chapter 3! Organic Chemistry and I were on good terms today, and so as a reward I finished up chapter 3. I like this one, bunches. You get to smile at the end which is just lovely and I finally got to write some real dialogue. Enjoy lufflies. **

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He wasn't really sure where along the way he'd forgotten that her apartment had blown up. Or if he'd actually forgotten that or just repressed the memory as much as possible. Hell, he wasn't even sure if she hadn't been the one to blow her apartment up just to make sure all the 'evidence' of whatever that fight had been was truly and absolutely, kaput. But still, knowing all that and actually knowing all that were two very different things. He'd also somehow missed the fact that she had stepped off the plane with nothing in her hands. Which made sense really, because she hadn't exactly been at a four star hotel where they carried your luggage in _and _unpacked for you. And _even so_ he'd still opened his damn mouth and made himself look like a real idiot not once but twice. What made all that worse was that she hadn't teased him, hadn't gotten mad at him, and hadn't even spared him more than a bleary and blank glance. So he'd gotten kind of mad. Anyone would have really.

"Ducky's coming by later. Time to go sleep Ziva," Gibbs had said and none too gently reached down and grabbed her elbows. Just like that he'd hauled her out of her office chair, and yes it had always remained her office chair. Gibbs had tucked her underneath his arm even as she held her body as far from his as she physically could and either he was just ignoring every, single, 'stay away from me' sign she was throwing up or he didn't care that she was doing it in the first place. And it made Tony so blindingly jealous for a second that _Gibbs _could do that and he couldn't that he opened his mouth with a brilliant performance of 'jealous idiot, exhibition 1'.

"Where're you going?"

"Home Dinozzo." And he'd pushed out of his chair and started following behind them like a lost puppy.

"But her apartment-" Ziva's back straightened and Gibbs practically growled.

"_My _house." The walls in the bullpen suddenly looked more red than orange.

"Your house?"

"Got a better idea?" He clamped his mouth shut because obviously he didn't and he wasn't really so sure why taking her to Gibbs' was such a bad idea anyways now that the walls were back to orange again. At least he would know where she was and that she wasn't going anywhere for the time being. Gibbs had ninja senses too. The elevator doors dinged open then and Gibbs practically lifted Ziva inside and Tony stood there trying to figure out what he was supposed to say now because once again she was disappearing.

"Are you coming or not?" He slid into the elevator just before the doors closed. Then because the silence was oppressive and someone had dared to turn _elevator music _on during the short time they'd been away, he opened his mouth again and completed the musical. 'Jealous idiot, exhibition 2, et al.'

"Coed sleepover?" And the head slap he'd gotten hadn't been near as physically painful as the small catch in her breath he'd heard over Beethoven's 5th Symphony.

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He'd become a really good sander in the months she had been gone. Up, down, with the grain, watch it become dusty and then blow so that it would become smooth again. Up, down, dusty, smooth. It was numbing. Or at least normally it was. Tonight his headspace was so full he didn't know how he was even managing the action. The basement was dark, lit by one of those light bulbs in cages that Gibbs hung up by the little hook on the end. And the bourbon tasted better than beer, or pizza, or Chinese, or peanut M&M's. It was scalding sliding down his throat. Warm and fiery. Yet it hit his belly cold and chilled. Left him feeling sick and still thirsty. No matter how much of it he drank. She hadn't spoken a word since they'd gotten back. They'd stepped off that plane and she'd gone completely mute. Gibbs didn't seem bothered by it. But it was sure as hell bothering him.

You couldn't … go through all that and just handle it. You just couldn't. The overhead light flicked on and he blinked, sandpaper in one hand, bourbon in the other. It'd been such a rough day he wasn't even worried about stealing Gibbs' bourbon without asking. That's when you knew life sucked.

"Duck's here." Light back off. Well. He set the glass down and took the sandpaper with. No. That wasn't right. Glass, sandpaper on desk. His brain wasn't firing right. Tony tromped up the stairs without turning the light on and tossed back the rest of the alcohol before he entered the living room. Gibbs was sitting in his reclining chair. Ducky on the couch. He slumped against the wall.

"Gang's all here," Tony mumbled. No one said anything. "Why does this feel like a freaking funeral?"

"Abby's helping her shower and get dressed," Gibbs interrupted without casting him a glance.

"The doctor's report was quite sparse Jethro, are you sure he was an accredited physician?"

"Hell, Duck, I don't know," Gibbs shifted forwards in the rocking chair. "McGee said we were making the guy nervous," he smiled and Ducky chuckled.

"Oh I can quite imagine so. Such a site would likely have reminded me of my war prisoner days, although with as young as Timothy described the individual as I cannot imagine him having been through a war. Perhaps though his age was deceiving, it certainly can happen. Progeria for instance can cause one to look exceedingly-" He broke off as voices were heard. Voice, Tony corrected, just Abby talking about something involving bats. There were no Ziva tones. But he could hear Ziva feet coming down the stairs, because there were definitely two sets of toes hitting the wood.

They were all silent as statues when Abby came chatting her way into the living room, one arm around Ziva and one arm holding up an entire bowl full of popcorn.

"Ziva and I want to watch a non-scary, totally full of fluffy puppies and cute old grandmothers with grandchildren that are falling in love with the wrong people movie. You can find us one right Tony? Maybe something with cute boys that are dog walkers? That would have puppies and a job granny wouldn't like. Or pool boys with no shirts, or, or how about dancers! Yes. Tony? Find us a movie? Nothing scary," Abby trailed off then and smiled at him with something that only looked a little forced. He wanted to throw the glass across the room. Instead he just looked down at her and smiled.

"Course Abs. One non-scary, hot boy, cute puppy, cliché filled, total sap fest, movie coming up." He didn't move though because he had no idea if Gibbs even owned any movies and until McGee joined the party, wiring up the fossil of a television sitting near the front window to let him download one was so unlikely it was funny. Or it would have been funny if he was in the type of mood that allowed anything to be funny. Abby had pressed Ziva onto the couch easily enough and was now hovering as Ducky started methodically piecing her back together.

Tony finally figured out what the bats had been about. They were all over the pajama pants Abby had put Ziva in, little black ones that had creepy vampire teeth and wings that looked like fingers. He heard Ziva's sharp intake of breath and snapped his eyes up to her face. She was looking at him. Staring at him and not breathing anymore and the look on her face was _awful. _

"That hurt Duck," he mumbled, because apparently Ziva wasn't talking tonight. She didn't drop his gaze and he didn't blink and they just stayed like that while all he could think about was how he wanted to be over there next to her on the couch, not all the way across the freaking room. But his feet wouldn't move and he didn't know why.

"Yes. Bruised and possibly broken ribs do tend to do that. I apologize my dear," the benevolent man patted her knee and reached for the hem of her shirt. When he drew it up to look at her side Tony had to grit his teeth. Mottled bruises, and bright splotches of color; red, purple, green, yellow, black, blue, her skin was every color but skin color. Cuts and scrapes and healing places that looked angry at being exposed to the cold air and her skin was getting goose bumps as Ducky gently pressed and prodded and she was still looking at him and that gaze was boring a hole in his head and it just looked so painful and he couldn't fix it and it was all just too _much. _

"Are you cold Ziva?" He whispered the words because he didn't know what else to do and standing there watching the evidence of what someone had done to her was not helping his anger to cool at all. The tiny nod he got out of her made him sigh in relief and he went to find a blanket.

By the time he got back she was shirtless except for a bra and Ducky was looking at her back and at any other time the sight of her in a bra would have been the fodder for so many fantasies she would have head slapped him herself. For the first time he was pretty sure this was the stuff of nightmares though.

"Abigail, could you get my bag? I left it by the front door."

"Sure Ducky!" He held the blanket out as Abby passed by and she took it without looking at him. Ziva stopped shivering when Abby tucked it around her and he leant back up against the wall. At least he could fix that.

"Ziva dear, this cut needs a few stitches, I would numb you but I thought-" She nodded before he finished his sentence and he patted her shoulder. "Yes, without the local then. I do mean only a few stitches, I think three or four will suffice." Tony hated needles, he felt himself pale when Ducky drew out suture, but Ziva didn't even blink and he started wondering if she even felt it.

Gibbs' front door opened and closed and he turned to peak around the doorjamb to see who it was. McGee had managed to shower and find clean clothes. He almost envied him.

"Clothes. Soap. Socks. Even got your toothbrush," Probie mumbled as he slung a backpack towards him.

"Thanks McUseful."

"Did you get his Playboy magazines as well?" The person that spoke those words made him swing around and stare. "He will not be able to sleep without them, McGee." And now he was really gaping because yah, that had been _Ziva _teasing him. Ziva who hadn't spoken in hours and who was sitting having her arm stitched up as though it didn't even hurt and wasn't worth thinking about. His comeback time was so slow Gibbs glared at him.

"I've been trying to cut back on the addiction," he weakly said. That had apparently been perfect though because the side of her mouth curved just a tiny bit.

"Accepting you have a problem is the first step in the program I have heard." He cocked his head sideways and tugged out a grin from God knew where. It felt like it came from somewhere around his liver it took so long getting it up to his face.

"Yah? Well I figure I've been in denial long enough."

"Denial?"

"Mmm. Ziva. I've got a secret." And she turned her head sideways and looked up at him. He smiled again and this time it was a little bit easier. He pushed away from the wall and crossed the room, coming to stop by the arm of the couch she was perched on. Ducky was finishing up with the cut on her arm and switching to one on her palm and this time she winced a bit when the needle went in.

"A secret?"

"Yes, something I've been keeping very well hidden for a very long time. Longer than I've known you really. It's something I don't really tell anyone, don't really want anyone to know you know? Cause it's kind of embarrassing and would totally ruin my image."

"Are we still talking about magazines?"

"Nah, we're talking about my secret, but it has to do with the magazines. They're part of the cover story actually."

"There is a cover story?" Her voice was less grating now. It didn't sound like she hadn't used it in forever and it was slightly rusty. Like an old toy that you hadn't touched in ages and then pulled out of the box. Or a gun that had rusted over that just needed a bit of cleaning to look completely new and work brilliantly, her voice was coming back. Just as pleasant and sultry as he remembered.

"I had to have one. The truth is, you see Zee-vah," and God did it feel good to say her name like that again, even if her eyes didn't narrow the way they used to when he called her that. "That all the women I go out with are just part of the cover story. The truth is-" Pause for dramatic effect and a small, defeated sigh, "I'm gay. And have been madly in love with McGee since the day I met him."

Her face lit up. Her eyebrows went up, her eyes sparkled and the woman smiled at him. She was sitting shirtless, with bruises all over her skin, and bruised ribs and her palm being stitched up and she smiled at him. And he could do nothing but grin like a fool in return because this Ziva was actually nicer than the desperate Ziva that had climbed in his lap, because this Ziva actually looked alive and God she was smiling at him and he didn't think he'd ever been so utterly _happy _just to see someone smile.

"You are in love with McGee?"

"Madly."

"You are gay," it hadn't really been a question but he answered anyways.

"Don't poke fun. There's rules about discriminating against me based on my sexual orientation." She shifted as Ducky pulled the last stitch tight and then looked up at him again, something that resembled the old Ziva-smirk on her face. And he knew that smirk meant trouble and that she had a really great comeback but he didn't care and really hoped that she did. Because he honestly wanted her to win a round of verbal sparing since no one could win quite like she did and it had just been so long since they'd had a round at all.

"It does explain the suits." He was the one that grinned like a Cheshire cat this time, since it had been a really good comeback and she was still smiling at him while she was all hurt and broken and bleeding and shirtless. And suddenly the shirtless seemed a lot less nightmarish than before; it had to be the smile. The Ziva-smile could make anything better. He was going to let her win this one, he wasn't even going to try for a comeback, because he certainly felt like he'd already won anyways.

"I guess it does." She finally looked away from him then and said something to Ducky and he couldn't help feeling like he might have helped her pull herself up and out of wherever she had been. Not only did that make him grin just a little bit wider when Gibbs nodded at him, but it also helped some of that broiling anger cool down just a bit, cause Ziva smiling at him was just so much better than being angry at the world.

* * *

**[] Collective awww. Originally I had thought we would skip forward a bit in time from here, but I believe there will be one or maybe two more chapters before we do the time warp. Until chapter 4. **


	4. Wraith

**[] Here we are, chapter 4. And we really should skip ahead a bit in time now. What time? That is a fantastic question, I'm not entirely certain. I just know that we are and in the next chapter Ziva should be significantly more together. **

**[] Small disclaimer: The quote is from Dirty Dancing, I do not own anything but the Anniversary Edition of said movie and the soundtrack. **

* * *

"_You listen to me. I don't wanna hear that from you. You can!" _Gibbs shifted in his seat as Johnny watched Baby unravel on screen. They'd asked for a chick flick, he'd gotten them a chick flick. With dancing, shirtless boys, a real sap-fest plot, and all the music and hip grinding and movie world nonsense producers could fit into a two hour film about silly teenagers falling in love when they clearly weren't supposed to even associate with each other. It was a ridiculous plot, and he vaguely remembered taking some girl to it back when it came out. It'd been so long ago he couldn't even remember if the chick flick movie had served its purpose and gotten the girl in bed with him. And although that might have bothered him in the past he was certainly having a hard time caring right now.

McGee had fixed Gibbs' TV to do … something and Tony had chosen the movie. Duck had gone home, Gibbs was half asleep in the big man chair and McGee had taken one look at the couch with Ziva and Abby on it and chosen the floor instead. Tony wasn't quite as immune to big puppy dog Abby eyes and had dutifully sat down next to her. Course, that also put him next to Ziva and that had certainly made her tense up for a few seconds that had then turned into a few minutes that had then turned into a lot of minutes.

She was more relaxed now though, almost asleep he thought, and he was trying to decide if he should stop the movie and tell her it was bedtime or just let her fall asleep on the couch. But the way she was curled couldn't be very comfortable and unlike Abby, who was snuggled up to his side as though she was a little termite burrowing into his skin looking for warmth, Ziva was sticking firmly to her side of the couch. Which, of course, made him hyperaware of where she was. As if he hadn't already vowed to become her shadow. Now he was aware of every tick though. He'd never thought a woman had cute toes before, but after feeling Ziva's touch the side of his thigh he couldn't help but look down at her bare feet.

There were cuts and scrapes, but he had expected that. He was starting to suspect there wasn't much of her skin that didn't have cuts and scrapes. Her little toes kept curling up though, into the balls of her feet and it took an entire dance scene in the movie for him to figure out what was up with the twitching. Her feet were cold. And that had left him with such a pang of … he wasn't going to try and figure out what type of pang it was actually … that he'd quit watching the movie entirely and started trying to figure out a way to get her feet warm. Twenty minutes later and he was _still _trying to figure out what to do. The problem was about to become a lot easier though, because she was going to fall asleep very, very soon. Especially if he kept turning the volume on the television down. No one seemed to mind and Abby was already snoring against his shirt. Just one more ninja to get asleep and he could solve one of her problems.

He had the feeling that the other problems might not be as easy as cold feet. At some point during one of the intense scenes with Penny and Baby's dad she fell asleep and slouched down just enough for him to reach his hands underneath her ankles and put her feet in his lap. And apparently he did it slow enough to avoid disturbing her because a few seconds later she started snoring and he couldn't keep the grin of his face. He had her feet in his lap where he could rub little circles over her anklebones and was watching as Baby and Johnny finally did it to Otis Redding crooning '_Cry to me'. _He flicked the movie off when the credits started playing and leaned his head back as the room became completely dark. Whatever curtains Gibbs had definitely did the job of keeping light out and darkness in, and it was just before he fell asleep with his palms splayed all over her feet that Gibbs prodded his shoulder.

"Wake her up. She needs to sleep in a bed."

"Can't we just c-"

"You gonna carry her Dinozzo?" Okay, so maybe that wasn't such a great idea now that he thought about it. "That's what I thought. Wake her up. Tell her to get to bed and then go shower. You smell god-awful."

"Thanks Boss," he mumbled and stared at sleeping Ziva for a few seconds. Her face was slack, no tension in her jaw and she looked young and scared and so and so he might be projecting a bit because he was really tired and somewhere in that description he would need to include achingly beautiful if he was going for the full movie bit. He put her feet back on the couch and reached to touch her shoulder.

"Just Tony Zi, wake up. Bed time for the big bad ninja. Ziva, come on." Her hand clamped down on his wrist and her eyes snapped open, he immediately leaned back, trying to get out of her face before he lost an appendage. "It's just me Ziva," he whispered again and her hand slowly lost its grip.

"The movie is over."

"Yah, you missed the ending."

"They get together yes?" He smiled and resisted the urge to reach over and brush her hair out of her face.

"Course they do."

"Good." And with that she pushed off the couch and stumbled towards the doorway. He heard her feet on the stairs a few seconds later and waited until a door shut before he turned to the deadweight lying on his side. Abby was still sound asleep. It took some maneuvering, but eventually he managed to get her using a pillow as a pillow instead of him as a pillow. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before he went for the bag McGee had brought him. Shower and then bed. He didn't even care if bed turned out to be a floor at this point. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep for a very, very, very long time.

* * *

The sound of screaming made him shut the shower off. It had been shrill. Piercing, slicing through the ping, ping, ping and drip, drip, drip of the water on the bottom of the bathtub. And he'd shut off the water immediately. But there'd only been the one scream, and even after he counted to twenty he didn't hear anything else. Tony shrugged; maybe Abby had woken up and decided to turn a movie on. The shower went back on, and he took up his position of slumping against the side again. He hurt down to his bones. Hell, his bones hurt. Sort of like someone was pulling and pushing at the same time and his body didn't know whether it was supposed to give or hold.

The water made the shallow cuts stings, but it did wonders for his muscles. It was a competition between aching and stinging and the aching had won out because maybe it wouldn't hurt to move after this water massage. Even if it wasn't that great a massage; Gibbs' water pressure sucked. The second scream was so sharp it made his head whip up. That hadn't been a movie. There was no way that had been a movie. He flipped the water off and yanked the shower curtain back and before he'd even gotten a towel around his waist there was another scream to go with the first and this one sounded like someone was being tortured and hurt and just plain beat up.

He tugged pants on just because he didn't think Gibbs would like him parading around in a towel and then he pushed open the bathroom door and stuck his head into the hall. The screams were constant now and with a sinking feeling he realized exactly what, where, when, why and who. And the who was the worst part in all of that by far because he didn't dare think about the why. He met Gibbs in the hallway and sighed when he realized he didn't look a bit surprised. Then he wondered why he was surprised that he didn't look surprised because he shouldn't really be surprised by this either.

"Nice shower Dinozzo?"

"Yah boss, your water pressure-"

"Did you leave any hot water?"

"Might be some two blocks over." And she was still screaming and he really had no idea what to do at all. "She doesn't have any paperclips does she?"

"I'm sure she could make do with the furniture." Tony winced.

"I wonder how many ways she can kill with a lamp? Never mind, I don't wanna know." More screaming that was starting to turn into sobbing and _that _noise was just heartbreaking. "Well we can't just leave her."

"God only knows where she's at. We wait. And zip your fly." His eyes dropped down and sure enough, the fly was down. He hadn't gotten the button either. And his hair was dripping on the carpet. He rubbed his palm across his neck and leant against the wall.

"She won't be able to talk in the morning." Gibbs didn't say anything, didn't move, just stood with his arms across his chest and his five o'clock shadow bordering on more of a shade and less of a shadow. "All that screaming is going to-"

"I _know." _He shut his mouth. Wait. He loved waiting. Absolutely freaking loved it. Just call him sister Mary Patience.

"Tomorrow's Monday." One of Gibbs' eyebrows went up a half a centimeter. Tony pushed on. "Any chance we can get like, an hour extension on being at the office? Haven't had a whole lot of sleep the past couple days." Gibbs never answered but two seconds later he had slipped his palm around the doorknob and turned. Tony pushed away from the wall and poked his head over his boss' shoulder.

The room was dark. Shades of black and gray falling over the shadows the furniture was making. There was a bed in the center of the room; twin, with blue sheets and fluffy pillows. It had been slept in, the comforter was all crumpled to one side and the pillow was turned sideways and for some reason he could just see Ziva curled into a ball with her head on that pillow even though she wasn't on the bed. He couldn't see her anywhere actually. And that definitely brought up a little bit of panic. So he started rapidly scanning the room, just like he would if he were looking for a suspect and holding a gun in his palm so if they jumped out he could shoot them. Nightstand with a lamp and a really big shade, dresser with a mirror and a brush sitting on the surface, a bag tossed in a rocking chair with clothes spilling out of the top, shoes by the door, curtains brushing past the window as the air was stirred.

He reached for the light at the same time Gibbs reached for him.

"Don't." So he didn't. Instead he followed Gibbs farther into the room, trying to figure out where on earth she'd gone. The window was still closed; that wasn't an option thank God. He couldn't handle roof scaling with this little sleep. There wasn't anyone behind the door. No closet. Where _could _she have gone? He stepped back as Gibbs checked the window anyways. Where would she have gone if she were scared? Trying to get away from the wraiths that were haunting her dreams, it would have probably been purely instinct. On a hunch he squatted down and crept over to the bed, leaving plenty of room to push back if he needed to. Carefully, and very, very, very slowly he lifted the edge of the bed skirt. The picture he was met with made him catch his breath.

She was pressed against the wall, body contorted so that her whole frame fit beneath the bed, pen held in front of her like a knife, eyes wild and scared, hair sticking up, blood seeping down her cheek.

"Boss." As if that picture wasn't bad enough, as if the sight of her all curled into herself and shrinking away from demons that he could really only imagine wasn't bad enough, she was whimpering in broken gasps, tears running down her cheeks and mixing with the blood. Her voice kept cracking and it was god-awful. Gibbs knelt down beside him and stilled.

"Oh Ziver," it was whisper soft, and even so she moved closer to the wall and grasped her weapon so tightly her knuckles turned white. "See if she'll come out."

And Tony reached for her and realized a moment later that there was something more heartbreaking than seeing her pressed against the wall and bleeding and sobbing. There was something more heartbreaking than watching her clutch a freaking pen as though it was the only thing she had left for defense. There was something damn worse than hearing her screaming and knowing there was nothing he could do. Cause when he reached out towards her with his palm up and his fingers still she jerked so violently _away _from him that it made him want to punch something. She moved so quickly _away _that she hit her head on the bedpost. And watching her frantically try and get _away _from him as she cried and bled and shook and trembled, that was heartbreaking. Right down the freaking middle of his stupid heart, heartbreaking.

* * *

**[] I know, not a very happy ending, but I cannot imagine someone not having nightmares after such an ordeal. I would conjecture that even Tony and McGee would suffer from some, perhaps I will stuff Tony under the bed next time though, I'd like to see if he would fit. **


	5. Here Precious

**[] It's the weekend! That means updating time and yes I know it has been nearly a week, but this chapter is extra long to make up for it and somewhat fluffy to boot. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Fall had come. There was fabric covering up tanned skin all of a sudden and someone had decided that _scarves _were in for the season. That was just stupid on so many levels he wasn't sure where to start. They covered up cleavage and made him look at the general chest area. The two were so conflicting he wasn't really sure what the whole point of the scarf craze was anyways. There were the boots too, and those he didn't mind so much and yah, the jeans could be good if they fit right, but if they didn't it was just cruel because they were all baggy and you couldn't see curves or skin or anything but swaddling blue fabric.

Which were all things he whined about each fall with the tragic passing of summer but that he had recently realized he hadn't really even thought about at all this year. And he had the sneaking suspicion, okay no, it was more of a knowing feeling thing, that it all had to do with the fact that this summer had simply sucked. Sucked beyond measure on things that weren't supposed to be sucked on and then swallowed, thrown up and sucked on again. And the sucky, sucking, suckage had gotten sufficiently suckier since _someone _had dropped off the face of the damn earth. _Again. _Only this time her freaking vanishing act was so good he couldn't even start looking for her. Because the … he didn't even know what to call her he was so mad and glad and just emotional about her … had gotten Gibbs to help her out. She'd turned to Gibbs. And yah that had made him really mad at first. But he'd cooled off and then politely asked where she'd gone off to while he was measuring parts for Gibbs' boatand all he'd gotten in return was a raised eyebrow, a shrug, and a ridiculously infuriating and un-detailed 'she's safe.'

Well wasn't that just fantastic. She's safe. At least he hadn't said 'she's fine' he really might have gone nuts over that one. Safe had been bad enough. Fine would have been the ultimate straw. He'd have snapped. All of which was fine and good and dandy, but he wasn't noticing the lack of skin and hadn't looked down a woman's shirt in days and not only that he also had no inclination to flirt and the coffee lady was starting to look at him strangely because it had been so long since he'd smiled and winked at her. And still he couldn't convince himself to stop acting like a pouty four year old because 'she's safe' was just not enough information when you'd pulled someone out of a terrorist cell in the middle of the desert. And oh, let's not forget the whole screaming and hiding under a bed bit that had just been so, fantastically, _fun. _

Oh, yeah, safe just didn't cover it. He cracked his knuckles and tried to convince himself that reading the file in front of him would somehow make all the whole Ziva mess better. Course not, fantasy thinking. But a guy could dream. And who would have ever thought that he would be dreaming not about a gorgeous Israeli, naked in his bed but instead about a gorgeous Israeli simply safe and _present _in his life? Not that he would mind the gorgeous, naked, Ziva, with a smirk and a copy of that damn article on page fifty seven that he still wasn't sure was physically possible because that would be the icing on the cupcake really. Ziva with icing … oh that was nice too. Ziva with beer. Ziva with chocolate. Ziva with cookies and pie and ice cream and sugar and, and just Ziva would be nice right about now.

He was pretty sure he was in withdrawal. And not from sex. So that really was weird. He groaned and leaned back in his chair. The file was not getting read; it was so pointless it was kind of funny really. Oh yeah, just all sorts of giggles. Right up until Gibbs-

"Dinozzo whatcha got?" He blinked, looked down at the file he hadn't read because he hadn't been paying attention because he had been thinking about someone and then sighed.

"Nothing boss."

"Well why not?" There went the eyebrows and the coffee cup and Tony just sort of hated the normalcy of it all.

"Working on it."

"Good. McGee?" And off McGee went about some random, technological thing that no one that didn't have a degree in something another engineering would be able to understand. He went back to the file and told himself that this time he would actually read it.

* * *

A million thoughts went through his mind when she spoke. _Alive. Well. Not bruised. Not crying. Whole. Here. _Were only some of them. _His _popped up in the mess, and he brushed that one aside because he definitely didn't want to go there, but the main thing his brain was concentrating was relief. Relief so potent and unexpected that it was making him kind of giddy cause his brain just couldn't process something so … profound so quickly. God did she look better than the last time he had seen her and yeah he had definitely missed that head tilt and that voice and just _her. _He smiled just a little, testing, seeing how that would go over with this Ziva. Whether this Ziva was the one that crawled into his skin, or slept on the couch with her feet in his lap, even if she hadn't known about that one, or hunched under a bed with a pen for a weapon and her voice so scared from screaming she couldn't speak.

It turned out that this Ziva was none of those and some completely different version all together, because this Ziva teased and apologized and smiled and frowned all at once. And yah, that was kind of odd, but he couldn't care less because unlike all those other Ziva's this Ziva was here. And he really, really, really liked the here Ziva the best.

* * *

He wasn't entirely sure what was up with them and bathrooms. They seemed to spend a lot of time in them. Which wouldn't be weird at all if they weren't spending that time together. Even that could probably be explained away if they were having sex while in the bathroom, but no. Just talking and that one, blessed kiss that had both been so painfully slow and over way too fast and time had just been screwing with him during those moments because something couldn't possibly be slow and fast at the same time. But it had happened. He was sure of that; he hadn't just been hallucinating here-Ziva into kissing his cheek with those lips, she had done it. He could still feel the ghost of her hand against his skin, even though the imprint had left long ago. Hours and hours ago actually and now here he was standing outside of the apartment he had looked up from her file at work because he had definitely never been here.

Gibbs had said let be and he'd let be. But she'd made the first step and he figured that was at least a yellow light if not a green one. And if it was still red, well, everyone needed a ticket now and again. He'd take one if the payment was her yelling at him or telling Gibbs on him; he could handle that penance and not blink. Which was all well and good and logical and stuff, but he was still standing outside her door and hadn't even moved close enough to knock. Which he was going to have to do soon because her neighbors were eventually going to notice that a random guy was standing on Ziva's stoop and just staring at the white-painted wood in front of him.

This was painful. Like chasing suspects or trying to figure out what a woman wanted him to say. And had it been any other woman but Ziva he would have thought that was the real problem; he, God help him, he didn't know what to say. But this was Ziva so that made no sense at all. He didn't really even need to say anything around her, she got his message clear enough without the whole bit where he stuck both his feet so far down his throat they reached his gut. Which was good. Really good. But he was still standing staring at her door and this was just getting ridiculous. He had the movie, the smoothie thing she liked and a box of cereal to go with it. Not just any cereal either, Frosted Flakes cereal. The Sound of Music was guaranteed to get him in the door, especially when he told her she could keep it, but he was freaking still standing in front of the damn door.

In the end it was the ding of the elevator that had him moving forward and knocking on the wood because if one more old lady stepped out and grinned at him with their dentures all crooked and their greens stuck in the dentures he was not going to be a happy Dinozzo. He had to knock three times before the chain clinked and the door was tugged open. And yep, that was still Ziva. All frizzy, foofy, fuzzy, curly, _sexy, _no Dinozzo don't go there, hair and giant sweatshirt and fuzzy pants and pink socks. He blinked. Pink socks. That just made him stare as her toes curled into the carpet and he couldn't help but watch. Of all the colors. Pink. He grinned and caught her eye because they had been standing there without talking for longer than two people normally stood in a doorway.

"Pink," oh God, he had just said that. He head smacked himself and a very tiny smile stretched across her face. "I didn't say that. And to prove that I didn't say that I will offer up Frosted Flakes, a smoothie the way you like it and the Anniversary edition of The Sound of Music." He produced the gifts with a flourish and watched as the grin spread, slowly eating away at the faint bruises left on her skin and transforming the stone mirage into a living, breathing, smiling, present and just precious, Ziva. And he didn't think he'd ever used the word precious to describe someone before, but with Ziva in pink socks and fuzzy pants and grinning at him like that it definitely fit.

"Did you also bring milk?" Hell.

"You don't have any?" She bit her lip when she shook her head and he was again tempted to tell her that she looked practically adorable but he kept that little thought to himself because 'adorable' probably wasn't something that Ziva would like being called.

"Dry cereal is the stuff anyways. Unless you want to put your smoothie on it?"

"No, I do not."

"Didn't think so," and when she smiled at him again and shifted her weight to her left foot he realized they were still standing in the doorway and that it was getting weird at this point. "Gonna let me in?"

"Only because you brought me a smoothie." He headed for her kitchen when she closed the door and started shuffling through cupboards looking for bowls. Everything was in the same place as her last apartment. Cups above the sink, plates above the stove, and bowls near the refrigerator so she could reach for them as she pulled out whatever leftovers were for dinner. There was even the sticky note pad sitting by the phone and just to get her to grin again he grabbed the pen beside it and scribbled out '_Dinozzo was here' _on the top sheet.

Cereal went in bowls at the same time she silently padded into the room. He looked up at her when she leant against the doorframe.

"Want to put the movie in?" He tossed it towards her before she said anything and she caught the case somewhere around her left shoulder. Nice throw Dinozzo, he patted himself on his back.

"It was not that good a throw." His eyebrows went up.

"Excuse me? It was a fantastic throw. You caught it didn't you?"

"My catching it has to do with my abilities, not yours." The cereal box went on the counter and he even remembered to close it.

"Ziva- what's your middle name?"

"I will not tell you."

"Fine. I'll figure it out later. Ziva David, are you seriously questioning my throwing ability? And my throwing ability with movie cases to boot?" The little frown appeared on her face as she accepted the cereal bowl he held out to her.

"To boot? What does this have to do with throwing?" He pushed a spoon into her bowl and shoved the cereal in his mouth, that amped up the frown to a real scowl and made him grin.

"Kind of means 'also' sort of."

"Did you just eat my cereal?" The left eyebrow went up and she stared at the spoon he was tucking back beneath her frosted flakes.

"It's good. Try some."

"But your, how do they say- cooties? Yes, cooties, are in it now." He laughed and reached out very, very slowly to touch her arm, because that was safe and if he didn't touch her he was going to say something very stupid.

"Lots of people like my cooties," Tony winked and plucked the movie out of her fingers considering she didn't appear to have any intention of ever moving from the doorway. It went in and he sat down on the couch as close to the armrest as he could get hoping that she'd at least share the sofa and not go for the wicker chair in the corner. It took a few seconds, but eventually she did sit on the couch and tucked her feet beneath her so that her little pink colored feet were only a few inches from his thigh. So much closer than he had thought.

"What?" She said when she noticed him grinning at her and he shook his head.

"Nothing."

"No, there is something. You are grinning at me with that … goofy grin again."

"What goofy grin? There is no goofy grin."

"Yes there is! It is that one. Right there, on your face."

"I'm just happy is all," and because he was trying for honesty and he had vowed to be her practical guardian angel from now on, he went for the truth for once in his life. "You're okay Ziva, that makes me happy."

And that had definitely made her uncomfortable. She shifted, drawing her feet closer to herself, away from him as she shrunk back and into and just _away. _That was so much like what she had done under that bed that he winced even as the nuns started singing on the television that McGee had brought over for her.

"Don't do that Zi." Her head snapped around and she glared at him.

"Do what?" And those words were definitely nearly spat.

"Shrink away from me. Move away. Try and, and _distance _yourself. It ain't going to work. You're stuck with me. You're stuck with Gibbs, all of us. Get used to it."

"You should not-"

"Shouldn't care?" Woops, that had been what she was going to say after all, her eyes flinched away from his and he sighed. "But I do. I'd be heartless if I didn't. People do care about you Ziva, and not just because they want you to do something for them." And just like that her eyes were flashing back to his and her fingers were gripping the spoon so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

"Don't-"

"I'm not going to go there. I'm not. You know it and I know it, no need to talk about it but I do want to apologize Ziva. For the past, for what I did do and didn't do and should have and shouldn't have. I screwed up. And I am sorry about that." She cooled slightly at those words and her hand relaxed on the spoon. He counted to thirty before she moved again, and when she did it was to bring cereal to her mouth and crunch.

"Never apologize," she whispered the words while looking at the television screen and he felt his mouth smile just a little.

"Some of Gibbs' rules …" That brought her eyes up to meet his super quick and the grin grew on his face because yah, she knew what he was talking about and it wasn't just the apologize one.

"Are more like guidelines."

"Mmm-hmm. Exactly. Guidelines, not really rules."

"How do you tell the difference between rules and guidelines then senior very special agent?" He chuckled and her eyes lit up for just a second and that was such a familiar action that it made his breath catch and his hand lift to brush her hair out of her face. He pushed it through his hair when he realized where his fingers were headed and she tucked the wayward strand behind her ear herself.

"In my very vast and in depth experience, I've come to the conclusion that situation is everything. It really depends on the who, what, where, when and why," since this conversation was getting just a little too serious for his taste and because she was being open and did still have a few hints of bruises on her cheek bones, he went back to teasing because he could not have her running from him again. He couldn't handle it again, wouldn't handle it again.

"For instance, Tony and Ziva in the bedroom with a-" She smacked him with a pillow she had pulled from God only knew where and he yelped. "Ouch!"

"It appears as though my throwing ability is superior to yours yes?" He rubbed his head and looked at the crazy ninja sitting on the other side of the couch.

"Your hitting ability might be. Jeeze, that _hurt _Ziva." And just like that she was petting, yes petting, his forehead and smoothing across the skin she had hit with the pillow and that felt so freaking nice that he was melting into the couch and into her touch and into a puddle of happy, sappy Dinozzo goo. "Better. Much better." She gave him one last pet before she leaned back to her side of the couch and picked up her spoon again.

"You are a baby Tony."

"Hey, that's great, as long as I can be your baby." She rolled her eyes and he grinned so she would know he was teasing … mostly. Waking up to Ziva-petting wouldn't be a bad idea at all really, and no Dinozzo, no thinking about that. Not allowed, off limits and not _yet. _

"Be quiet so that I can watch the movie."

"I see you've decided my cooties aren't so bad after all," as if she was just trying to prove his point she shoved another spoonful of cereal in her mouth and licked the spoon afterwards.

"I have never had a problem with your cooties." And that was so unexpected he blinked and dropped his spoon. And she was looking at him strangely and so he tilted his head and gave into the very real desire to reach over and tuck that _damn _strand of hair behind her ear after all. And yes, she did freeze, and she did jerk just a little when his fingers brushed across her cheek but she didn't move away and she didn't take his hand off and she did sort of lean into him just a little he thought.

"So this," he let his finger brush across a disappearing bruise on her cheekbone, just below her left eye and watched as her eyelashes fluttered just a tiny bit, rapid as a hummingbirds wings and nearly as invisible. "Might be okay?"

She never said anything, just turned her head back to watch the movie and spooned more cereal into her mouth. And he went back to the movie too and ate more dry cereal from Ziva's bowl with Ziva's spoon while sitting on Ziva's couch and having Ziva not tell him that he couldn't touch her. And that was so great and nice and just outright awesome that he couldn't help the goofy grin that spread across his face, even when she told him to stop grinning like the 'canary that ate the cat'. And when he told her that was backwards and how would a canary eat a cat anyways she said that none of the American sayings made sense anyways, why would this one be the one exception?

And that was just so Ziva and so precious that he couldn't help but feel really, really great for awhile and the idea that someone could be precious wasn't nearly as alarming when she pressed her palm to his cheek just before he walked out the door. Because when he told her goodnight and that he'd see her tomorrow she smiled at him, really smiled at him, and that was just so wonderful to see on her face, she was just so wonderful to see altogether, that he really had no other word for it; she was absolutely, completely, and utterly precious.

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**[] There we are. Depending on how much Organic Chemistry I get done I may have another chapter done by the end of the day. We shall see. :) **


	6. Except, Exceptional, Exception

**[] I survived my Organic Exam! Which means new chapter. I really like this one. Lots and lots and recommend listening to _Little Lion Man _by Mumford & Sons while reading. Enjoy. **

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It had been such a small trigger. He never even thought about it really. Just something that they did all the time, or had done all the time and he hadn't realized that they hadn't done it since she had been back until it was way too late. And he'd been a real idiot about it anyways. Dark and loud hadn't ever been two of her favorite things, but now they were bordering on intolerable and idiot that he was he hadn't even thought about it. And now he was dealing with the fallout alone because Gibbs had speared him with a glance that clearly said 'fix it and fix it now'. And Lord was he trying to fix it, but he got the feeling that this wasn't something he was going to be fixing anytime soon. It wasn't just the drunk guy that would be left with a scar. Apparently no longer being officially Mossad meant nothing about her knife throwing skills, cause they were still freaky accurate.

Straight in the guy's palm. Tony pushed his fingers through his hair for the seventeen thousandth time since the start of this mess. All this because he had been so stupid. He'd never even thought to just wait until day or go in early because it was just a bar after all and there was nothing really weird about a bar at night. It was all very normal and Ziva and he had been to lots of bars on lots of nights in lots of different situations and she'd never shown any aversion to any of the others bars, but that was before. And he kept having to remind himself that there had been a before and there was now an after and the two weren't the same dang thing. There was a difference. A really big difference that ended in a nasty knife wound for some random drunk, a headache load of paperwork for him and a haunted look for Ziva that he would do double the paperwork for if it just took it away.

They'd gone in close to two am and that had been his first mistake of the night. He could have taken Probie, almost had in fact, because Ziva was better at watching everyone come in and out of the bar. But then McGee had said something about matching faces with driver license photos as they walked out on his little techy computer and Ziva had looked so confused that he'd just taken her instead.

"We appear as a couple after all. Even if you are gay," had been her words. He'd appreciated the rare reference to the time right after Somalia and been so delighted over that little foggy, messy, glass window that he'd gotten out of the car and marched up to the club with her arm very loosely around his waist. And yes, that did feel wonderful, and he would have liked to have pulled her significantly closer, but she was still tense in his arm and he didn't want to push her. Not yet anyways. That was what he kept telling himself. Not yet. Which implied there would be an eventually and that was really, really good. He wanted an eventually.

"I am late for dancing!" And Ziva did such a good impression of grinning and flirting with the bouncer that he'd let them right in. The bartender was easy to see. He stood right up on the bar top, mixing drinks and blowing kisses and his knees were level with the tequila bottles and his head flush with the heads of all his patrons. The bartender was a freaking midget and Tony found that so funny he couldn't help but snicker. And he had an _afro. _His hair was half his body weight and even though he'd expected it the sight was so weird that he couldn't help but sort of laugh. Ziva pinched him hard and he yelped.

"Ouch Zi."

"Quit googling, we are working." The grin split his face in two this time.

"Googling is what McGee does with the search engine to find porn. You want ogling or goggling." She waved her hand in front of her face in that irritated little flick and cut through the _middle _of the dance floor, him in tow.

"Ogling then. Stop."

"But it's just so-"

"Tony."

"What a movie this would make! Think about it, midget bartender kills marine with, with what? His electrostatic hair?"

"His short stature does not mean he is not able to kill someone."

"I know, I know, but it'd just make a really great movie." They were finally through the dancing mass of ooze and sex and were fighting their way to the bar and he hadn't looked at a woman yet. Oh God did he have it bad. Not one boob glance, not one checking out asses aside, he hadn't even looked at a woman's face since he'd walked in the place. Except Ziva of course. And that phrase was getting so old, so fast it was ridiculous. Everything was except Ziva. She was just an exception and exceptional and all sorts of except.

"Perhaps it will be your big break then yes?" He laughed.

"I'd make a great movie actor." That got him a snort and an eye roll and she was opening her mouth when the man on the bar stool in front of them spun. And the guy was big and dark and drunk and apparently exceedingly stupid because even as Ziva appeared to twine herself around him the guy looked her up and down and then started coming towards her. And if Tony had been smarter or quicker or just more observant he might have been able to stop what happened next, as it was he was still concentrating on what Ziva was going to say next, where the midget, afro bartender had gone to and what Ziva was going to say next, to notice that the guy was moving forward a little too fast.

And it wasn't really fast at all, it was clumsy and sloppy and all sorts of drunk, but it was unexpected and Ziva didn't have time to really think. Instinct kicked in as soon as the idiot drunk pinned her against the bar. Her body was being pressed into the stone, she was trapped, it was dark, smelly and sweaty, loud and sweltering and hot and he saw her fall back into the clutches of a terrorist in the same amount of time it took her hand to go for the knife at her waist. The blade glinted in the dim lights overhead and was then firmly planted in the palm of the drunk man. Dead center, pinning his hand to the counter where Ziva stood trembling.

And Tony had actually managed to tell someone to call an ambulance before he'd reached for her arm. And that was so ridiculously stupid that if she'd had another knife he would probably have been stabbed too, as it was he only got a slap to the face. The midget bartender had reappeared right around then and started moving towards her with a really creepy glint in his eye and Tony had instantly moved to stand beside her.

"Don't touch her!" He'd yelled, even as he tried to figure out how to get close enough to talk to her and far enough away to avoid those punches of hers. "Ziva. You're in a bar sweetcheeks. I know it's hot and smells bad and that he's big, but I promise it's just a bar. A really sucky bar come to think of it, with this freak of a bartender that couldn't possibly have killed a marine. McGee's outside and Gibbs … Gibbs is going to _kill _us." The bartender chose that moment to insert his two cents.

"Murdered some marine? Oh no way man. Ain't no way I touch some marine. Them guys are mean and big and all sorts of kick-ass. I wouldn't even poke a marine. Not with a pole. A really big pole, with-" Tony never found out with what because he interrupted.

"Shut up," afro midget stopped talking and went back to watching. "Ziva, ever play limbo as a kid? Cause I need you to limbo your way out from under that guy's arm, I don't think he can move right now and you'll feel better if you aren't having to inhale his stench. He stinks bad."

Drunk guy finally noticed he had a knife in his hand at that point and Tony was left with a whole new problem. The guy started wailing. Screaming as loud as he could and suddenly everyone that had been doing something else and looking somewhere else and talking about something else were now looking, doing, and talking all up on top of them. All the while drunk stabbed guy wailed and cried and insisted he was dying. Tony wanted to punch him just to get him to shut up because the elevation in noise was _not _helping his Ziva cause. Tentatively he reached out towards her, going for her arm this time, the skin just above her wrist. His fingers got within six inches before she jerked away.

He ground his teeth together and tried to figure out something else to do.

"Ziva-" Someone pushed at him from behind and he half fell into bleeding, wailing dude. That made the space Ziva was standing in shrink to half the size and this was frustrating beyond all belief. He had a screaming, bleeding guy, a midget with an afro that possibly killed a marine and an assassin experiencing a flashback and just to make the entire moment even more Bond movie worthy some _idiot _decided to upend their drink on him at that very second.

"For the love of … Ziva either you're gonna have to come out of there on your own or you're gonna have to let me get to you. Cause this is fast turning into some B-rate movie with a really bad Bond."

"Get out of the way Dinozzo." He blinked and tried to do just that, but how Gibbs was managing to move in this crowd wasn't entirely apparent.

"Boss- I can't get her to-"

"Pin her, grab her gun, pick her up and get her out of there. Don't get shot." Tony felt his eyes widen, wondered if Gibbs knew how many sex jokes were begging to be picked on in that whole mess of fragment sentences and then blinked when Gibbs head slapped him back into the reality of screaming, sweating, swearing, sweltering bar mess.

"She's going to _kill _me for this," he grumbled. Gibbs shrugged.

"She'll apologize for the shiner first." Tony snorted. Right, that made it so much better. It took half a second for him to duck under the drunk guy, unlike Ziva he had limboed as a child. And been able to do it on roller skates, not that that particular skill would be remotely useful currently. As expected Ziva tensed like crazy when he pressed against her and the thought that any other time having her entire freaking torso pressed up against his would be enough fantasy fodder for _months _did pop up.

But then his eyes met hers and he realized she wasn't seeing him at all and Dinozzo Jr. quickly checked out. The only guy she was seeing was some jerk with a caffeine and killing addiction. Even he knew that mixing the two was a recipe for terrorist on steroids _and _speed.

"Talk." The order made him open his mouth and shut down his brain even as he started groping her hip for her holster.

"So this reminds me of a movie Zi. There's this really hot guy that goes into this bar and this girl is there singing right? And I mean damn does she have a good voice, like old school can wail out Betty Davis Eyes good. She sees this hot guy and dances her way over to him-" He passed her gun over his shoulder to Gibbs and then tried to figure out the best way to get her out of the whole mess. "She dances her way over to him and switches songs. And turns out she's known him for years, been in love with him since the day they met ages ago."

Tony finally settled on grabbing her waist and bodily dragging her out away from the bar. The triumphant look he gave Gibbs was met with a scowl and a nod towards the exit.

"Outside. Stay with her. There's a alley to the left." He dismissed them both by turning to the afro midget and ignoring the stabbed drunk entirely.

"Right then. Come on Ziva. We're going to go out back. You know what most couples do in alleyways right?" The fact that he didn't expect her to respond made him jerk when she did and yet another drink was poured all over his favorite freaking suit.

"Have sex." Trust her to be blunt.

"Any chance we can go for the traditional, boring, old school use of alleys here?" The joke didn't even get him a glance and he sighed. "Didn't think so."

"You consider sex boring?"

"With you?" He couldn't help the disbelieving tone and then scrambled to cover just how great that sounded. "Definitely." Her eyebrows were the ones that went up this time. "McGee in an alley now … that sounds hot." The bouncer gave him a really odd look this time around, because Ziva wasn't the one tugging him along, he was the one tugging Ziva along. And yah, that probably did look odd, Ziva didn't do tugging. Or old Ziva didn't do tugging, but then neither did new Ziva and he wasn't really sure which Ziva he was dealing with right now anyways and that just all made his brain hurt so he wasn't going to think about it.

"Is your …" she struggled for whatever words she wanted, "stepping out of the bathroom the reason you no longer look down women's shirts?"

It took him a few seconds to figure out what _that _butchered saying was supposed to have been and by the time he had figured it out he'd already found the alley Gibbs had mentioned. And it was just that; a dark, dank, stinky alley with some guy peeing against the building. It took only half a glare to get him to zip it up and flee out onto the street.

"'Coming out of the closet?'"

"Yes, that is the phrase. Although it does not make any sense. Why would a gay person be in a closet?" He chuckled and tamped down the instinct to reach out and ruffle her hair. She was so goddamn … Ziva sometimes. No one could say that and get him to grin like she could. And even if she was avoiding talking about flashbacks and terrorists and dirt and sweat and blood he wasn't really inclined to make her talk about it right this very second. She'd get there when she got there or he'd get her there for her.

"No clue. Why would a canary eat a cat?" It didn't get the snort he was hoping for, in fact she pulled away from him at that second and pressed her back up against the building wall.

"I do not know," her eyes slid shut at that, and her head fell back against the wall as she brought one leg up to balance herself. "Answer my question."

"Huh?" Because she'd definitely lost him when she'd started moving that leg. The angle was really, really, really nice.

"You no longer look down women's shirts."

"That isn't a question."

"It was before."

"Isn't now." Her eyes snapped open and she lazily glared at him.

"Answer." He leant against the opposite wall and grinned.

"Why do you want to know?" The glare intensified just a hair, the line above her brows became slightly sharper and the tension around her mouth became tighter.

"There is some phrase about a cat and curiosity yes?"

"Ziva, if we're talking about cats and you I'm going to _have _to make some joke about puss-"

"Tony," a mild tone now and the Ziva-mask was back on. Completely blank face, completely blank eyes, God himself wouldn't have been able to tell what she was thinking.

"Ziva."

"Please." And that certainly got his attention, Ziva didn't say please. He wiped a hand across his face and crossed his arms. Defensive stance because this was something she was fishing for and wasn't actually ready to hear yet. And he couldn't tell her before she was ready because she'd run and dissipate and he'd be left trying to find Ziva again. And there was no way in hell he was doing that dance anymore.

"I'm not interested," and yes he tried to keep his tone casual and shrugged to cap it off but the act didn't quite fool her because she tilted her head sideways and truly studied him.

"Why not?" Right question, totally wrong time.

"They aren't … what I'm looking for."

"Then what are you looking for?"

"Who says I'm looking?"

"You just did," she pointed out and he pushed away from the wall. There was too much space between them all of a sudden and he needed her to actually hear this and process this and understand this. Carefully he placed a hand above her head and angled his body into her space. She didn't wince, didn't flinch, and when he moved his other hand to place on the other side of her shoulders she didn't even blink. Apparently this was okay. For now, this much invasion of her space was okay. And he was somewhat impressed by that, it was more than she had given in what felt like a very long time.

"I'm not looking," he mumbled, looking down at her as she studied him. She didn't say anything for the longest of times, didn't seem to be doing anything but breathing in and out at a shockingly even pace and just looking at him. Their eye contact reached ridiculous levels of intensity and he found himself wondering if the world they were living in might disappear when one of them blinked. If he broke eye contact with her and stopped looking at her for just that split second if he would be standing outside this bar alone and well aware that Ziva David really was dead. But then she blinked and the world was still right side up and she was still very much alive. And that was such a relief.

"I am ready to go back inside now I think." That hadn't been what he was expecting and he wondered if she'd actually gotten what he had been trying to say without saying at all. Tony moved out of her space though, allowed her enough room to push away from the wall and then let his fingers brush over the skin at her wrist.

"Ziva, let me know when you decide you want to talk about it okay?" For the briefest of seconds she turned her hand over and gripped his fingers. Warmth and squeezing that made goose bumps spread up his arm lasted only a breath and then she released his hand and turned back towards the mouth of the rank alley.

"My talking will coincide with you looking yes?" And this time he couldn't help the grin that popped up on his face because yes, she had gotten _exactly _what he'd been trying to say without saying it.

"Doesn't it always?" He asked as he caught up with her and let his arm nudge hers. She turned to look at him then, and the look she was giving him was far more serious than he expected. So serious that he half tripped on the concrete lip and had to look down to avoid falling. By the time he glanced back up the serious look was gone and had been replaced with her typical playful mask.

He grinned at her though and did get a small smile in return.

"Do you think Gibbs has managed to make the small man cry yet?"

"Don't know. If he hasn't you can always put a knife in his hand," and that comment got him shoved sideways and into the door frame where he made a big deal over her hurting his shoulder just so Gibbs would roll his eyes when they came back to him arguing over whatever they were arguing over and wouldn't ask anything about the guy that had just been carted out on a stretcher. Because apparently that had been the right thing to do, when Gibbs turned his back to them and started yelling at the midget again, who was crying, Ziva reached over and touched his hand again. And the tiny squeeze he got from her fingers along with the barest hint of a smile on her lips was definitely worth the head slap he got from Gibbs for complaining about a little bruise on his shoulder.

Bruised shoulder he could handle, bruised Ziva not so much.

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**[] I do believe the next chapter will be something of a continuation of this one. I haven't started it yet, but will probably have it done some time this weekend. Thanks so much for the reviews guys, it makes my day reading them. :) **


	7. Lavender Bubble Bath

**[] Here we are, chapter 7. This is a continuation of chapter 6, the same day I do believe, and I'm fairly sure it takes place in the wee hours of the morning, although reading back through I'm not sure I put a time marker anywhere. Hope you enjoy! **

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He was beginning to notice that everything bad started out with him saying something stupid. Everything good usually ended with him saying something stupid too though, so he was strongly considering taking a vow of silence and becoming a nun. Because all those vow things they went for were right up his alley. Silence, peachy keen, patience, oh yah on his top ten quality list, giving, forgiving, and let's not forget the real kicker. Celibate. Yep. That would be his new life plan; Tony Dinozzo, nun. He'd get to wear the little black dress and white head thing and everything. Beads and crosses and clothes that covered up all but your hands, your eyes and your mouth and nose. He didn't even want to think about all the undressing involved in going to the bathroom in those things.

Nundom. That was what he was truly destined for, especially after this lovely showing of '200 ways Tony's mouth can get him in trouble'. Audience of one, last curtain call. Gibbs would be the one in the front row throwing tomatoes and rotten apples and anything else that went splat. And he was beginning to think that the story was a tragedy that ended in tragedy and never got the nice turn around, surprise ending where everything was sunshine, roses and pretty girls. The only pretty girl he was currently _interested_, god he hated that word, in or with or what the hell ever, had given him a glare that he was pretty sure meant his death would soon be occurring. Death glare and then just left. And that had made Gibbs more than a little bit mad.

"Afro midget didn't do it."

"I told you that Tony," Ziva ground out and he turned to look at her. She was leaning against the wall in the observation room, ankles crossed, arms crossed, eyes crossed, everything about her looked cross. Just a great descriptor for the scene.

"No you didn't. You said he could have. Something about just because he's short doesn't mean-"

"Yes." And now he was kind of confused because the somewhat agreeable mood she had been in while they were still at the bar was definitely gone now and he couldn't recall having done anything to make her that … prickly.

"Are you al-" Oh totally wrong thing to say. Her eyes flashed and she looked like she was about to fly across the five feet of floor space and murder him.

"Do not ask that." And her instant dismissal kind of ticked him off, and yes he did open his mouth, and yes he did say something stupid and of course, that was exactly when Gibbs opened the door and poked his head in the room to say that they could escort afro out of the building.

"Well excuse me for being concerned. A couple hours ago you stabbed some guy because you thought he was going to kill you. That's not alright and I was just wondering if maybe we'd gotten to alright some time in the past, oh you know," and he did check his watch just to make her even more mad because at least a mad Ziva was one that was showing some sort of freaking emotion. "Two hours."

And it really did only take a second or two for her to be across the room and shoving him against the wall, knee between his, body pinning his back right up against solid plaster and dry wall and who knew what else.

"It is none of your business!" She hissed the words and he had to tamp down the wince.

"Like hell Ziva. I pulled you out of the freaking desert. I saved your ass and you know what? That makes it my business." Had he been able to move his arms he would have emphasized the words with a sharp jab to her chest, as it was he just glared and waited for her to back down.

"It is not." And apparently that closed the discussion because in the next second she was brushing past Gibbs in the door. The scent of her was cloying, clutching to every fiber of his being and clawing at his nose like a living thing. It was all over him and it was so very intoxicating it was making him sick. He breathed, felt his muscles unclench and his heart rate slow back down. Gibbs was glaring at him, furious apparently and he had the very real desire to either punch something or just sit down and bawl his eyes out.

He thought they made progress and then he managed to do something so incredibly stupid and then they were right back where they freaking started and Gibbs was mad and more than anything he was mad because damn it, if he couldn't get this to where he wanted this to be he didn't know what he was going to do or how he was going to cope or just … too freaking much.

"Dinozzo-" he didn't let Gibbs finish the sentence.

"Yah. I know. I messed up. What the hell is new?" And he didn't have to hear the words or get head slapped or see Gibbs to know he was disappointed. Yah well, he could join the disappointed in Dinozzo bandwagon. He was the damn driver. So he found himself outside her apartment door for the second time ever, and this time he was cursing his stupid mouth and trying to figure out if actually talking once he got in was going to be a good idea at all. Maybe he should just write some stuff down. Pass notes like he had in high school. Not that notes were going to work at all if she didn't open the damn door.

And he had knocked this time. Knocked a lot. A little. Varying patterns. None of it was bringing her to the door. He only found it a little ironic that he picked her lock with the kit she had given him. He'd been in only two rooms in her apartment. The kitchen and the living room. The hallway that lead back to what he assumed was her bedroom was unchartered territory, but since she was not in the kitchen or the living room and most certainly wasn't responding to any of his 'Ziva?' calls he braved the carpet and started walking.

Her bedroom was the second door on the left and not at all what he had expected. For some reason he'd always thought Ziva would have green sheets. Army standard issue. Immaculate bed, probably use a ruler to make sure the hem was twelve inches from the top. Clothes hung by color or style or something and just ridiculously clean in general. Her room wasn't anything like that. The quilt on the bed was white. Fluffy, contrasting with the pink sheets underneath. Pictures were everywhere. And he was in a lot of them. Abby, McGee, Gibbs, Ducky, Jenny … they were photos that he had copies of. Some of them he'd taken. The bed wasn't made, the comforter was thrown down around the foot and the pillows were all scattered and scrunched and slept on.

What he could see of the closet wasn't ordered at all, but rather messy and for some reason the sight of a bra sitting in the middle of the floor just made his gut clench. This was hers. So very intimately Ziva that it almost made him feel like he was intruding even though she was nowhere in the room. His eyes dropped to the bottom of the bed and he resisted the urge to get down on his knees and look underneath. If he didn't find her anywhere else he'd come back.

She wasn't in the closet he had passed, not in the room that he thought was originally intended to be an office but that she had turned into a place to store boxes for the time being. And that left only the bathroom and he was starting to get a little bit worried so he pushed at the doorknob and found it very much locked. Only Ziva would lock the door to the bathroom in her own house he thought and then slid down to put his back up against it.

"Ziva just let me know you're alive and then you don't have to talk anymore. Gibbs is pissed as hell at me."

"Tony?" She sounded confused but definitely alive and that was such a relief that he let his eyes slide shut. Why he had doubted her livingness wasn't something he was going to analyze too closely. Anything involving Ziva meant doubting livingness right now.

"Sorry." Stony silence. "For it being me and for earlier. You know," he mumbled, and pulled his knees up to rest his forearms on. "When I was in grade school, probably eight or so I'd guess, my mom used to take me to basketball practice every afternoon. I loved it. Liked hanging out with all the other kids of course, but really liked having the coach pay attention to me. My dad didn't really seem to care what I did or how I did it so it was nice you know? Having a guy's attention." Tony swallowed and leant his head against the door.

"One day my friend's mom came to school and told me that she was going to take us both to basketball that day. When I asked why my mom wasn't coming she said she was busy and couldn't. I remember thinking that was weird because mom _never _missed practice but when I asked what was wrong the mom just smiled and patted my knee. 'She fine Anthony, just busy.' I figured fine was code speak for some super secret government spy plot. I went home that night and my mom was there in the driveway waiting for me and I looked up at her when she kissed my cheek and after I made the big deal about that being gross and junk and she just looked tired. So I asked 'are you alright mommy?' And she looked at me and brushed my hair out of my eyes and said, 'I'm fine.' I think that was the first time she lied to me. She'd been to the doctor, found out she had cancer."

The words stopped at that point, because the story was over really and he was beginning to wonder if passing notes would have been better after all. Stupid mouth that got him in to such trouble. His dad had always said he talked too much.

"I don't have a problem with you not being alright Ziva. I have a problem with you lying to me."

"Why should I not lie to you?" He half chuckled because at least she wasn't contesting that she was lying and yes that was something of a relief.

"Because I'm your partner. Because I've got your back. Because no matter how much of an _ass _I am sometimes I do care." The sentences were broken because he couldn't figure out how to really tell her why. And he couldn't figure out how to tell her why because he didn't really know why himself. He just … he needed her to be honest with him here. Needed to know that she might not be okay currently but would eventually get there. For some reason it was important. When she spoke again he could barely hear her and pressed closer to the door and closed his eyes and really, truly did nothing but listen just so that he could catch the wisps of words falling from her lips.

"Perhaps I need to tell myself that I am okay so that I will be." It was so broken and so horrible that he felt a lump rise in his throat and his tear ducts react because god was that heartbreaking. And he was so glad she couldn't see him right now because now _he _was the one that wasn't all right.

"Then just tell me that. Or tell me not yet or that you will be or working on it. Just don't lie to me Ziva. I don't … can't … really hate it when you do."

"Sometimes lying is the easiest thing. It is hard to be truthful Tony."

"I know," he whispered the word and swallowed around the lump that was still sticking to his windpipe with the tenacity of crazy glue. And because he always ended good things by saying something stupid he saw no reason to break his trend now and opened his mouth to make a joke. "The truth is I'm dying to know what kind of level of undress you're in in there."

"There are levels of undress?"

"Sure. Naked and naked."

"It would be the first then." He blinked and half shook his head. "Since I am bathing after all." And that would be when his brain checked out and began chanting nothing more than _naked Ziva _in iambic pentameter. Or whatever form of chanting those monk people did that both put them to sleep and stimulated them at the same time.

"Bubble bath?"

"Lavender." He sighed and slid just a little bit farther down her door.

"That's why you always smell so good." Hell. That hadn't been supposed to- her chuckling made him decide that maybe saying that wasn't as large a disaster as it could have been.

"I smell good?"

"Quit fishing."

"Not literally yes? You mean metaphorically looking for a fish. Which doesn't really mean fish it means … compliment here." It was his turn to chuckle and then inhale sharply when he heard water slosh against something hard and unforgiving and drips fall back to the surface because that definitely meant that she was climbing out of the tub which meant she was definitely all sorts of naked now and just on the other side of this flimsy, wooden door.

"We'll turn you into an expert on Americanisms yet." He could hear fabric sliding on skin now, could hear a tub draining water in a glug, glug pattern, could hear little feet moving around on cold tiles that would probably make her toes curl up and away. It was such a distracting image he had to get her to repeat whatever it was she had just said again.

"Hmm?"

"Perhaps one day." The next thing he heard was the sound of feet getting closer to where he sat and before his brain really had time to catch up with what that meant the door behind him was moving and he was scrambling to remain seated. The barrier he had been leaning against was gone in only a few seconds and in its place was Ziva. Standing. Wrapped in a towel that was just as white as the blanket on her bed with her hair wet and dripping and curling into tendrils on her very bare shoulders. And yes her toes _were_ curling up into her feet to get away from the tiles and the tub _was_ draining and she _did _smell like lavenders. She looked down at him then, actually made contact with his eyes as he sat on her floor outside her bathroom and the pure _pain _in her eyes was so potent that it made him ache for her. Because no one should look that hurt on the inside and that okay on the outside.

Yes, the marks were fading from her skin but he was suddenly made aware of just how lasting the other stains were. This was not over for her. Not over for them. It hadn't been left in the desert with a dead terrorist in a camp designed for torture. It had very much followed them back to this city to this apartment with the white comforter and the soft carpet and the lavender scented bubble bath. And it _wasn't _all right. But maybe eventually it would be. Her gaze didn't falter when her lips opened and he didn't blink as she spoke because this was just too important to mess up by blinking.

"I am still angry with you." That made him melt just a little on the inside and tilt his head back a little more so that he could hold her eyes better.

"I know." It got a nod, or half a nod, her head barely moved at all but somehow he got that she acknowledged that fact because she stepped around him then and started padding towards her bedroom where the bra lay on the floor. He didn't move just watched her walk. He realized just before she turned the corner into her room that she wasn't limping, and that he hadn't watched her walk since she had been favoring her left foot.

"Ziva," his voice made her glance over her shoulder and yes that pain was still there, but she was holding it together and there was something to be said about that. "I'm still sorry."

"I know." She turned the corner and disappeared, but not before he saw her cheek twitch just a bit. And hopeful soul that he was, he thought it might have been just a glimmer of a smile.

* * *

**[] Oh Tony, Tony, he does like to put his foot in it doesn't he? I'm thinking the next chapter will be something of an episode tag, in so much as it will be after a definite episode. Which one? I'm not entirely sure. Any suggestions? **


	8. Always Dead

**[] As promised, episode tag. To Jetlag, during Jetlag really. My own version of what happened when they slept together? I know, there's hundreds. But I really wanted to write my own. So here we are, a Paris story from a Tony that is not quite up to player status again yet. Enjoy my lufflies. **

* * *

_The boat was lurching so fiercely he knew McGee was going to be sick. Back and forth, back and forth, like a toy that a particularly lively child was playing with in their bathtub while their mother soaped up their hair. This wooden toy had people on it though. The wave swells were crashing over the decks. Or at least he thought they were, the last person that had come down here had said something about everyone getting inside so they could avoid being swept off the deck. Because if they were swept off the deck in this weather there would be no rescue mission. Rain did funny things to the ocean sometimes. He was beginning to get a weird feeling that this was something like his Titanic. Which in itself was terrifying because half the people on Titanic died at the end and the damn boat sunk. _

_He was consoling himself with the fact that there were no icebergs off the coast of Africa as far as he knew. And if there were … well, what a way to go. Granted, the Titanic had been far nicer than this freight ship. Tony leaned back and his head struck the wood that smelled like mildew and looked as though it was rotting. There were rats down here, rats that sat in the corner and stared at him with their beady eyes. He didn't like what that implied; they were waiting for him to die so they could clean his bones and avoid dying themselves. Rats were filthy, greedy, bastards that were starting to rival the bastards that had put him down here. All because he'd been trying to save the girl. No, no, that wasn't right. Been trying to avenge the girl that had died because of him. _

_Yah, that fit. God was he an idiot. A real screwball. Shoot partner's boyfriend, partner no longer wants to do the tango with you so partner goes back to Israel where she decides to get herself freaking killed. Then he decided that oh wait, that isn't good enough, let's go kill the idiots that killed her. Which all led up to him sitting in the bottom of this ridiculous boat in a little padded cell while a bunch of terrorists tried to figure out what he was doing on board their ship. Which was grand and great, but telling them that he'd honestly just come to kill them didn't go over so well when he was on one side of the bars and they were on the other. _

_He'd lost McGee too. No, not lost. Didn't know where he was. Wasn't really sure he'd made it on board this particular ferry to hell. The boat tossed again and he slid two feet sideways. He looked down to glare at the wood and saw nothing but dirty sand. Huh. Sand on a boat. Well. That was odd. But since they hadn't been feeding him and had been drugging him he wasn't too worried about it. He could add the sand up with the window over his head that he swore looked out on the desert, because that didn't make any sense to his muddled brain either. _

"_American." And that was what they were all calling him down here. American. So he looked up and tried to figure out which of the dogs Hades had sent out to play this time. _

"_What are you doing here?" _

"_Told you. Came to kill you." The guy's eyebrows hit the ceiling at that one and the light he was holding swung dangerously to the left. Candles. Who used candles anymore? _

"_Why? What have we done to encourage this … anger." Tony looked up, made eye contact with the greasy little man and wondered if he had been the one to kill her. _

"_You killed a friend of mine." _

"_Us?" _

"_Yeah. A woman." And the guy laughed, threw back his head and laughed with his heavy eastern accent and his black beard dripping condensation. _

"_It is always a woman with you Americans. But I think I know the one you speak of. She was very beautiful yes? Well until the boys started playing with her at least. Very quiet. Never made a sound even when-" And he broke off there and Tony was so furious he was beginning to wish he wasn't bound. Which reminded him that he was bound, something he hadn't really noticed before. _

"_You raped her." He spat the words and the man chuckled again. _

"_Of course. As I said, she was very beautiful." Past tense. His brain hissed at him. The guy is speaking in past tense. _

"_So you killed her?" _

"_Oh not I. No. I wouldn't kill such a treasure. I would keep it in a box and then take it out to sparkle every once in awhile. Treasures are for keeping and enjoying. Not killing." _

"_Then what happened to her?" The man stroked his beard at that question and then turned and made his way back up the stairs he had come down. "Hey! Answer me. What did you do to her?" The sound of the door shutting was the last one he heard before it was back to the sloshing of the sea against the boat hull. It was rhythmic, almost comforting in nature it was so … he snapped his eyes open. No. Sleeping was bad. No sleeping allowed. Sleeping lead to death. He couldn't die before he figured out what had happened to her. _

_The door snapped open again and the man with the beard stepped back into the narrow passage between his cell and whatever was hidden in the darkness on the other side. Suddenly that side wasn't in darkness anymore though, and Tony realized that it mirrored his cell exactly. Another was set up, same bars from floor to ceiling, same window that showed him desert and same floor made of sand and blood and tears. The man hung the candle then, placed it where the entire cell was illuminated and pointed to the far corner with his dirty hand. _

"_There lies your beloved American. Feast your eyes on her. You'll soon join her." The implicit understanding was that she was already dead. The implicit understanding was that he had been just too late to save her because her corpse was still warm and she had only just ceased to breath and the knife that had killed her was still stuck in her chest and blood was still seeping through her filthy clothes. He had been just too late to save her, to keep Ziva safe as his own, and now he would die too. Because if she wasn't living then neither would he. It somehow just didn't work for only one of them to be dead. Fate said it would have to be both of them and her warm corpse was calling to him and he would indeed come. _

His legs were all twisted in the sheets when he woke up. Bolted up really. He sat up so fast he gave himself vertigo and managed to bump his head on the headboard at the same time. Dead. Again. Always dead. Every single freaking dream. Dead. Warm because he was just too late. Cold because he'd never had a chance. Her dead body showed up in some form practically every night. And she was _always _dead. He wasn't sure if it was because she should have been dead, he had believed that she was dead, or because his mind was telling him that he didn't quite deserve to have her back at all. Either way he woke up every damn night with the haunting image of a dead Ziva in his mind and no freaking idea how to make it go away so he could just go back to sleep and show up at work in the morning without giant circles under his eyes.

Of course, the ones where she was already dead weren't half as bad as the ones where she died in his arms. Where he was holding her to him and she was clutching him and whimpering and then the whimpering stopped, the clutching stopped and she just quit breathing. Those usually ended with him waking up gasping for air as he tried to remember that he _was _still breathing even if dream-Ziva wasn't. He would have paid money to be able to go back to the fantasy dreams he used to have. Fantasy dreams where Ziva was naked and arching in his arms as she pressed herself closer to him. Fantasy dreams where Ziva was in a swimsuit and grinning at him just before she dove in the pool. Fantasy dreams where anything but finding Ziva dead happened he practically didn't care if they involved sex or not at this point. He just wanted a nice, alive, breathing, happy Ziva dream where he didn't have to wake up sweating and freaked out and with his sheets in such a tangle he was lucky to ever get himself out of them.

But these weren't his sheets. Because his sheets were black. And these were white. And that threw him for such a loop that he let the back of his head hit the headboard just to see if maybe he was still asleep. But no, sharp pain to the cranial region but no magic jerking awake. Probably because he was already awake. Gold star for Dinozzo for that brilliant observation. He blinked and rubbed his hand over his face. These weren't his sheets probably because this wasn't his room. And this wasn't his room because he was- and that was when his brain finally caught up with him and he wanted to smack himself really, really hard. _Paris. _He was in freaking Paris. To pick up some chick. And normally that would sound good but not so much on this trip because picking up chicks while his partner- brain spluttering out again. Because his partner was with him. She wasn't dead in some ship/desert panorama, conglomerate, mess his mind made up. She wasn't lying on some floor nothing more than forgotten flesh and bones and she most certainly hadn't died in his arms.

Ziva was alive and for the first time he had solid proof of that fact. There wasn't going to be any trying to go back to sleep while he convinced himself that yes, going to Somalia had been real and uh-huh, he had gotten Ziva back. Because for the first time ever he really did have living, breathing, sleeping, Ziva here with him. Carefully he turned his head sideways, half afraid that if he turned too quickly it would prove to be a dream and he would be back on that boat. Because Tony stuck in a cell while he longed for his partner's corpse seemed so much more realistic than Tony in a hotel in Paris with his partner lying right beside him.

But she was. She was snuggled down in the bed, turned towards him with her hands curled up under her chin and her hair spread out all over the pillow. And the sheet had slipped down her torso a bit and her shirt had pulled up a little and he could see just a tiny strip of her skin right above her underwear because Ziva climbed into bed in nothing more than a shirt and panties. And because she was comfortable with that so was he and he stripped down to boxers. God she was gorgeous. He sighed and pressed his hand over his eyes. That made Ziva disappear though and all he saw was bleached bones and bloated stomachs with fish eating them so he opened his eyes again and let them feast on the sight before him. She was alive. One of these days his head was going to accept that. At least he thought it would. He wasn't really sure.

She shifted then, tugging at the covers a bit and he stilled. The shirt came up higher, her hair fanned out more and she exhaled with something that sounded like a content little sigh. She still smelled like lavender. He wasn't going to sleep anymore tonight. The realization should have bothered him, but for some reason it just left him feeling tired and old. Here he was, in Paris, with a beautiful woman in bed with him and all he could think about was how damn _happy _he was that she was alive. Maybe not well, but at least alive. When had he gotten so … he didn't even know what but for some reason being thankful that Ziva was alive and not really being anything else kind of made him mad tonight. What was he doing with his life exactly? Working, sure, and he was good at that. Being a friend to a handful of people, being her … he didn't have a title for what he was to her. Didn't dare ask.

But he did want to be more than whatever he was. He wanted to be able to, to call her at night when he had a dream about her being dead again, because god knew he would, and have her answer and say 'are you nuts Tony? I'm going back to sleep.' Because just having her yell at him would be so nice sometimes when he thought she was dead. Her little irritated tone would be fantastic to hear. He turned his head to stare at her again and nearly jumped when he found her eyes open and staring at him. Apparently his tossing and turning and loud thinking had woken her up. But she didn't look particularly mad at him, just sleepy and drowsy and all sorts of … he was getting so damn sappy in his old age.

"Sorry," he mumbled and pushed a hand through his hair. It would look fantastic in the morning he was sure.

"You are awake." Her tone was so confused he grinned and felt sheepish all at once.

"Yeah." Blink.

"Why." He shifted against the headboard and tried to decide how to answer _that _loaded question.

"Nightmare."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Silence rained then. Pouring down in drops that made no sound when they hit the sheets and yet drenched him entirely and thoroughly all at once. Minutes passed before she spoke again and when she did her tone was so soft he had to turn his head so he could read her lips.

"Would you like to talk?"

"About?" She scooted farther down into the bed then, and pulled the covers up to her chin so that he couldn't see that strip of skin anymore.

"How cold Paris is this time of year. I had forgotten." He chuckled at that and her eyes lost some of their sleepiness and became slightly more sparkly and just Ziva.

"It's warmer than it is in Washington Zi."

"Yes. Well. The last time I was in Paris it was much, much warmer and I think it was around this time."

"Global cooling." Her brow furrowed at that and he realized he was about to confuse her.

"I thought it was global warming."

"It is."

"Oh." He slid down in the bed because the headboard hurt his back and she didn't shift closer to the edge. He considered that a personal victory.

"It was a joke," he muttered and grinned just a tad because the joke hadn't been funny but the fact that she didn't get it certainly was.

"I do not get it."

"Me neither," her grin was totally worth the nightmare.

"It is still cold." He couldn't help himself this time.

"Is that an invitation for me to cuddle with you Ziva? Because if it is …" Her face made him stop and shut up and just quit talking altogether because she looked kind of alarmed and scared all at once and she definitely hadn't been thinking that at all. "Sorry."

"Why?"

"That wasn't … I shouldn't of … just smack me and tell me to shut up." Her low chuckle brought his eyes open and sure enough she was smiling at him.

"It is alright Tony."

"I hate-"

"When I do that," she huffed and he slid a little lower in the bed because she was right, it was kind of cold. "Fine. If you insist. It is not all right. But it will be."

"When?" And he half wondered if she would understand that he wasn't really talking about him making jokes at the wrong time about the wrong thing and with the wrong intentions. Maybe she did, maybe she didn't, but her answer was perfect.

"Eventually."

"Eventually could be a very long time."

"It could also be a very short time," she whispered and smiled just a tiny bit. Her fingers reached out then, came straight towards his eyes and in the dark it looked like she was going to pet him a little. Smooth out the creases from his nightmare and let him fall back asleep very much secure and very much aware that she was alive. And even better than alive, she was here, with him. But it was the dark and the night and he didn't expect her to touch him at all, so when she did, when her fingertips just barely touched his forehead and really did smooth out the frown lines, he was so surprised that he half jerked and that made her go very, very still. Then the petting motion resumed though and he opened his eyes and looked at her across the pillows.

"What was the nightmare about Tony?" The whisper soft words, the soothing motion of her fingers … she could have asked him anything and he would have answered.

"You."

"I am a nightmare?"

"You dead. Me too late to save you. Your bones in my hands. Your bleeding body held against me. You lying on the floor not breathing. Me too far away to help. You back in Israel. Still dead. Always dead, always." He wondered what she would make of that, what she would say and do, whether she would rip the covers off and fly out of bed, telling him he had no right and that he should just stop already and just give up. But she didn't do that, she stayed, petting his head like she would a small, cute puppy, and breathing in and out steadily. And he could half imagine that he felt her breath skittering across his lips, that each little sigh she made tickled across his skin and seeped into his pores. Because yes, she was alive, and the dead didn't breath.

"But I am alive."

"I know that. My mind doesn't. It always has you gone. Where I can't get you. Can't see you, can't find you. I feel like I'm running through one of those mazes and can't find the exit."

"Tony," and now her palm has moved to join her fingers, and she's half cupping the side of his face and it feels so good he can't help but nuzzle into her a bit. And apparently that is funny because she laughs just a little and allows him to press into her palm just a little more.

"What."

"I am not going anywhere."

"Seems like it sometimes." And he can't believe they are having _this _conversation in Paris, while in bed at some god-awful hour in the morning. This conversation seems way too important to have like this, because they aren't really discussing her leaving at all. And he knows that and she knows that, but they've never been good at forthright and straightforward so they'll keep talking about her leaving as though it isn't metaphorical. Even if it is.

"I won't leave," she whispers into the night and he opens his eyes to look at her.

"You better not." Seconds turn into minutes of silence and she stays with her palm on his cheek as her eyes start to drift closed. He can't help but watch her fall asleep because all the tension goes out of her face and it's kind of fascinating to watch her drain.

"Ziva."

"Mmm." Definitely sleepy, maybe he can get away with it.

"I'm cold."

"I told you it was cold here."

"Mmm-hmm," he inhaled, preparing to get punched really and then shifted just a little more towards her. "Cuddle with me?" He watched her mouth tense up, saw her muscles clench. Tony didn't move. Didn't breath, started turning blue as he waited for her to hit him or roll over and ignore him or just hop out of bed and take the couch. "I'll keep my hands to myself," he mumbled as a last ditch effort. She exhaled on a sigh and then rolled towards him and that was so incredibly unexpected that he was left with his arms above his head and Ziva with her head pillowed on his chest and her arm slung over his stomach.

And god was she warm and soft and hugging him and breathing and alive and _here. _He froze like that, eyes getting just a little bit wet, arms still up as she nuzzled into his chest. As she pressed her nose to his skin and inhaled and then slung a leg over one of his so that she could get just a little bit closer. He actually wanted to cry he realized, he truly did. This was … so much more than he had thought she would give, so much more than he had ever even dreamed of and god bless her soul she was holding him and cuddling up to him and it was just so-

"Go to sleep my hairy butt." It was the perfect thing to say because it made him laugh and relaxed him as though she had flipped a switch. Carefully he brought his arms down to curl around her and shifted a little so that he could press his cheek to the top of her head.

"Oh Ziva," he exhaled, whispering to her just a little, because this was intimate and it was perfect and screwed up and just them. She gave him a little squeeze and then practically melted into him and he recognized that as her 'done talking now, go to sleep' motion. "Night sweet cheeks."

He would wake in the morning with her still on his chest and then he really would have to fight against the tears, because she certainly did keep the nightmares at bay.

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**[] Collective aww/sob. Because for some reason I found it rather sad when I read back through it. Tony is breaking my heart. Sniff. Hope you all enjoyed and I should have another chapter up by the end of the weekend. :) **


	9. Dreamcatcher

**[] This, is fluff. Like completely flufftastic. Which is good, because I don't think the next chapters are going to be fluff. I hope it makes you grin, Tony gets to talk movies a bit, which is essential you know, and it's just darling. Enjoy. **

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"Annie is on the Hallmark Movie Channel." He didn't know whether to laugh or groan. Laugh because that was _Ziva _calling him for apparently no other reason than to update him on what movies were on TV or groan because it had to be Annie or laugh because it was _Ziva _or groan or _freaking Ziva. _In the end he settled on a confused tone and a grinning mouth since last time he checked even ninja's couldn't see through phones.

"What?"

"Annie is on the Hallmark Movie Channel," same tone, same clear cut words, he still didn't get it.

"Okaaayy …"

"You were …" and he could just see her waving her hand in front of her face in frustration that he wasn't getting it. "Surprised that I had not seen it before." She stopped and he stopped and wondered what exactly he was supposed to say to that. Drawing out okay again didn't seem like it was in his best interest. "I was attempting to find something to watch and I saw it and thought that you might … that we might … would you like to watch it with me?"

Well now. He choked on the coke he had been drinking and started coughing and spluttering.

"Are you alright?"

"One sec Zi." The phone went on the coffee table and he went for the kitchen. Cough. Choke. Cough. Choke. Water. Where the hell was water. Like a teenager he leaned over the sink and drank from the tap. Air returned to his lungs and he started breathing halfway normally again.

"Alright. Back. I was choking. Dying from inhaling coke the wrong way because you-"

"Never mind Tony." Icy cold tone. Short clipped words. She thought he didn't want to watch it with her.

"Hey! Don't hang up!" Silence. He counted to ten before she did anything but breath silently.

"Yes."

"You surprised me is all. Got any popcorn?" More silent breathing, this time on his end too while he waited to see if she was still going to let him share this. If he hadn't screwed up too bad with his coughing and hacking and general surprisedness.

"I do."

"Annie needs popcorn. And chocolate. And beer. Lots of beer." That thought had him pushing off the couch and going to look for all of the essentials for a movie night in. With Ziva. God he missed their movie nights. This was a start though. Over the phone movie night. Why did that feel like something teenage girls did? He shook that thought off as soon as it formed. She'd called him. Good enough. Way more than good enough.

"Peanut M&M's?" He froze with his hand on the refrigerator handle. The last time he'd seen her with those … nope. Stop Dinozzo. Not going there.

"Sure. Gotta love Peanut M&M's. Stick 'em in your popcorn. They're even better that way."

"Eww. No. There will be no mixing of … condiments?" Way too close to condoms there Zi.

"That's mustard and ketchup, mayonnaise. Not candy and popcorn."

"Well then what do you call them?" Popcorn in the microwave and pop, pop, pop, no that wasn't his popcorn. He'd just put his in.

"Are you making it on the stove?"

"Of course. It is better that way."

"You're hosting movie night next time." She chuckled, deep in her throat and he grinned as he tugged out a bag of baking chocolate chips.

"Because I can make popcorn on the stove?"

"No, no. Because you _are _making popcorn on the stove. I _can, _it just takes too long."

"But some things are better when you must wait for them no?" He froze with his bag of extra butter popcorn and cocked his head sideways so he could press his ear closer to the phone.

"Are we still talking about popcorn here Ziva?"

"Of course. What else would we be talking about?" Oh her mouth said no, but that tone definitely said something different. Since she was in a good mood, might as well joke a bit.

"Cause personally I think sex with you would be fantastic at any time, waiting or no waiting." She inhaled sharply and he was left trying to figure out if he'd overstepped whatever invisible line, or no line, or whatever they'd drawn. But then she exhaled on a chuckle and he guessed that he was mostly in the clear. The popcorn went in a bowl with the chocolate chips and he carried that and two beers back into the living room. Lights out, TV on. He flopped down on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

"But you are gay."

"Oh damn. That's right. Sex with McGeek then. My man crush."

"Only fantastic?" Lord she loved the questions that put his mind in the gutter and his head out to lunch.

"There are no words," he mumbled the phrase and heard her sigh just a tiny bit. There was a pause then, just a few brief seconds where he heard her inhaling and exhaling and could imagine the look on her face as something that was just a little bit more open than normally. A look that would have him going all goo puddle and wanting to reach out and touch her for just a second. Then the moment passed and they were back to joking as though it had never happened.

"If McGee is your man crush is Abby my chick crush?"

"The better question is who would be on top in that foursome."

"Me of course I-"

"-like it on top," he finished her sentence for her and grinned as Annie walked on TV with a dog that looked like it needed a bath and a brush. "I know."

"_That _is Annie?"

"Huh?"

"The dog?"

"What? No. Why would Annie be the dog?" And where the hell had she come up with that idea anyways? He shifted lower in the couch and tried to imagine a Ziva that would come over and lay with her head in his lap so he could play with her hair and good lord why did that sound like such a fantastic way to spend an evening? No sex, no kissing, no make out sessions involving groping and getting to home base if he played his cards right and really hit the ball out of the park, just sitting watching _Annie _and playing with her _hair. _What the hell was wrong with him? He must have left half his testosterone in Somalia.

"Because America has a lot of movies about dogs named human names." He snorted.

"No we don't little Miss. Israel."

"Air Bud." And the way she drew those words out was kind of funny so he did have to laugh and that made her huff.

"Okay. Okay. Air Bud. Where the Red Fern Grows. Maybe there are _some-_"

"You named two without thinking."

"Well yes but this is me here Zi, the movie god." Tony could just see her eyebrows going up at that overreaching statement.

"God? Are you sure you're good enough to be a god? And by good enough I of course mean hot enough." He clutched a hand to his chest even though he knew she couldn't see it.

"Ouch! Oh Ziva, you've mortally wounded me here."

"Aren't gods usually immortal?"

"Okay you've immortally wounded me." She laughed this time and he tried to figure out what was funny because he didn't get it.

"Tony, that does not even make sense."

"Well you can't have it both ways. It made sense the way I had it at first then you went all 'gods are immortal' and now it doesn't make sense and I'm so lost and so not in the mood to argue right now that we're just going to drop it." Annie started singing on screen and he winced, little girl screeching was slightly painful to the ears. There was a reason he didn't watch this movie very often and it was largely due to red head there with the pipes.

"You must be in a certain mood to argue?"

"Sure. Usually have to have at least two things, pissed at you and sexually frustrated."

"Are you ever sexually frustrated?" And that had been the completely right thing to say and the completely wrong thing to say all at the same time. And idiot that he was he answered anyways.

"Lately? Yah." There was a pause as the movie went to commercial and all her attention shifted to him, he could nearly hear her thinking through the line, wondering if he had meant that the way it had sounded. Yes, he wanted to say, he had. He'd meant it just exactly that way.

"Yeah. I know," the words were whispered and it still made him grin like a fool and toss his head onto the back of the couch because damn did it feel good to hear that. "Do you have this movie on DVD or purple-ray or whatever it is now?" Purple-ray sounded like purple-rain and that was way cooler than blue-ray so he left her messed up phrase alone for once.

"Course I do. I think I might have an old copy on VHS somewhere. Really old school stuff. Like before you were born old school stuff." He heard the huff through the line.

"I am not that young."

"Baby."

"Do not call me baby."

"What if it was in a different context," he muttered and she got that he was teasing apparently because she answered immediately even as the movie came back on.

"I prefer more … imaginative endearments."

"_Tesoro_?"

"Italian. Everything is better in Italian is what they say yes?" Tony laughed.

"You tell me _mio amore_." And that little endearment had definitely slipped out. "I didn't-"

"I am also not in the mood to argue."

"Thank god, I can't do it tonight. Too relaxed and … boneless. You know what would make this perfect though?" Annie started singing again and he reached for the remote to turn the damn thing down. Little children just should not be given microphones.

"McGee in yoga pants?" He groaned.

"Ziva did you have to? I'm scarred for life. McGee in yoga pants. How can you even think about that without feeling sick?"

"But he has a very nice butt!" He was whimpering at this point, eyes closed, trying to envision anything but McGee in freaking tight pants. And then she said that and his mind went back to a very, very, very old conversation.

"Hey. I thought you liked my butt." She snorted and he could imagine the eye roll.

"Really Tony?" And she wasn't asking if he was really asking that, more making fun of him for his … oh god … insecurity regarding her but still he answered anyways.

"Yah really. I've never had any complains about that backside. Women always see me leaving you know? My backside not my front?" No laughter so he kept talking. "Because I'm always walking away? And they don't see me … cause of the whole relationship issue junk right? It's a joke? You get it?" Silence.

"Women never get to see you come yes?" He dropped the phone. He freaking dropped the phone. Head desk. Die. Gibbs slap him into the next century. God did she have to make that joke?

"You are going to be the _death _of me," he mumbled, searching the couch cushions for his phone. "Zi?"

"Why am I going to kill you?" She questioned and he dropped his head in between his knees.

"Not kill me. Be the death of me. Two totally different things."

"I do not see how. They both end with your demise."

"Okay yah but the … connotations are different."

"Oh."

"Mmm." And Annie started singing again and he had to sit through a whole verse of wailing before Ziva spoke again.

"Does she sing the entire movie?"

"Yup."

"Is it always so-"

"-painful? Yup." Tony raised his head as someone knocked on the door. "Hold on a second Ziva. Somebody's at the door."

"Okay." He left the phone on the coffee table and stumbled towards the door in the dark. Whoever it was at … the clock said 9:45 … could deal with shirtless Tony in holey sweats. He didn't bother checking the peephole before he opened it because really only a few people showed up at his door ever and none of them were people he wouldn't let in if he knew it was them. When he pulled the door open though he started wishing that he had checked first because the person standing there definitely wasn't anyone he expected.

"Ziva?" She moved inside his apartment as he stood staring at her. What the hell was she doing here.

"I brought you real popcorn," she muttered before dropping down on his couch and tucking her feet underneath her. "My phone was also beginning to lose charge." He was still standing by his door staring at her when she turned her attention entirely to the movie. Then she popped a handful of _real _popcorn in her mouth and he shrugged. Well then. Movie night it was. The door was shut, his feet padded into the living room and he dropped down onto the couch right next to her without making a big deal out of it at all because that was where he had been sitting originally and she could scoot towards the arm rest if she wanted to.

He got to Annie singing 'Tomorrow' before he actually got comfortable with Ziva just showing up at his apartment and sitting down on his sofa like it wasn't a big deal. By then half the popcorn she had brought was gone.

"Let me hold it." Her eyebrows went up and she refused to relinquish the bowl he was tugging on.

"No. It is my popcorn. I will hold it. How do I know you won't put your chocolate in with it?"

"Sabotage by popcorn. Really?" She finally turned to look at him and speared him with one of the most exasperated glances he'd ever seen. He laughed, despite how detrimental that probably was to his health, and she huffed.

"Why does everyone like this movie so much?" With her licking butter and salt off her fingers he didn't have a clue.

"Classic," he managed to strangle out and she gave him an odd glance like she didn't really get what had suddenly gone wrong with his voice. Then she smirked and he sat back hard on the couch. "Wipe that grin off your face or I'm going to lick your fingers for you."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Aren't they the same thing?"

"The connotations-"

"-my line! You're stealing my line!" A commercial came on with a singing mop and broom and she laughed. Tony couldn't tell if it was over her own joke or the stupid commercial. With her grinning he couldn't honestly say he cared. Today was a good day. She was in a happy mood. They were on the right side of the swinging pendulum at the same time for once. If they could just do this balancing act more than once in awhile they'd be set. Unfortunately the ground between this side of happy and the other side was really wide and without markers; they spent a lot of time in the wasteland.

"You cannot 'own' a line."

"Can too. America Zi, we own way dumber things than lines here." The movie came back on and she pressed her fingers to her lips when he tried to open his mouth to say … something that evaporated as soon as she pressed her fingers to her lips. Fingers and lips on anyone were distracting, throw them on Ziva, which made it sound like she'd never had any of them which was ridiculous on all levels of ridiculousness, and he couldn't really find much else to think about. Or not really think because blatant, open, _googling _wasn't really thinking. Her term actually worked in this situation.

"Why would anyone have a child climb a ladder like that?" It was good that he'd seen the movie before and didn't have to turn and see what she was talking about because she still had one of those fingers pressed to her lips and he was pretty darn sure she was doing it on purpose at this point.

"She's trying to get away from the bad guys."

"By climbing a ladder? That is foolish." Tony quit staring at her fingers when she started frowning. His serious radar was going off. Danger, danger, Will Robinson, window to the past, better peak while it's open, she's going to snap it closed and seal it shut in about three seconds.

"Why?" Apparently his tone was serious enough because she turned her head very slowly from the TV and met his gaze. The frown intensified and the fingers dropped to her lap. One distraction; gone.

"It's a dead end. They call them that because you die at the end yes?" He visibly flinched. Felt like he had been slapped in fact. Well.

"In the movies someone always saves you when you get to the dead end." Ziva held his eyes for a count of three seconds before she nodded. And with that nod her mask fell back in place, her frown slipped away as though it had been only a wrinkle in a sheet and she turned back to watch the movie. He continued to watch her as she watched Annie get to the top of the ladder and get saved by the dude in the heli. Her face didn't change as the movie cut to the final scene with singing and dancing and she didn't smile softly when the credits started to roll.

Eventually though she turned to look at him again and gave him one of the largest smiles he'd seen on her face in a long time.

"Sometimes it happens in real life too." That made him go mushy so quickly he couldn't stop the slight slump his shoulders did or the little soppy grin the crept up on his face.

"Yeah. Sometimes it does dreamcatcher." He half grinned when she crossed her legs and rotated towards him, sideways on the couch and closer than she'd been since … well since Paris which worked because that had been where the whole image of her hovering over his bed slaying his nightmares for him had started and that was all kinds of nice because if she was slaying then there had to be leather involved and he was pretty sure she'd look even better than Kate Beckinsale in _Underworld _did in leather. And boy had there been a hot sex scene in there and back to freaking real world Anthony Dinozzo. Her voice helped tug his brain back inside his head.

"Dreamcatcher?"

"New nickname. I thought I'd try it out. Suits you I think." The hand wave thing in front of her face that he'd been envisioning earlier made him grin and brought his brain more firmly home; it was just like he'd imagined actually. Weird.

"Explain." He rolled his eyes.

"You catch the nightmares Ziva. My own personal dreamcatcher." And that was certainly more personal that she'd expected because she looked sort of taken aback and pleasantly surprised all at once. He waited the shock out though and was rewarded with a sort of accepting nod.

"Oh."

"Oh." There wasn't really much else to say, and for once in his life he didn't try and push the silence into corners and crowd it with words that didn't really mean anything and just made noise anyways. Because for once, he found that he didn't really mind the silence all that much; they'd always been pretty damn good at talking without talking anyways.

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**[] See? As I said, fluff. Collective awww, andddd now we're done. :) I think the next chapter may be somewhat depressing just as a head's up. We must go backwards before we go forwards. Review if you're so inclined to. Which rhymes. Delightful. **


	10. Breadcrumbs and Pigeons

**[] We're at 100 reviews! Woot. So incredibly exciting peeps. Here we have chapter 10. Not fluff I'm afraid, in the least. An unhappy Tony follows, you have been disclaimed. Nevertheless, I enjoyed writing this chapter, his reaction feels real to me, I hope it does to you as well. **

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Every revelation is, in part, something that conceals. Inherently the two are linked. Intertwined, intimate partners, soldiered together in a conglomerate that would not, will not unwind. It was like black and white. Good and evil. You couldn't separate things that existed in pairs and because of each other. In perfect tandem, balancing on some sort of cosmic math sheet. Revelations were cloaks for concealment. Or concealment was a mask for revelation, he couldn't figure out which was the real bad guy. Then again, maybe it was him. He kicked at the concrete. Nothing giving there. Nothing giving ever. He was losing her. And so not in the way he had thought he was going to lose her just a couple months ago. Not to the demons. Not to the nightmares that he wasn't even really sure she had. Not to some other random terrorist. Not to a bad guy with a gun and just a little bit too much weight on her. Not even to someone else. He was losing her to herself.

She was getting back up on her feet. Pulling up her shoelaces as she would have said, and she was doing it all without him. He'd thought- well she'd shot down what he thought. Real quick. And it had hurt. More than he'd let on about and a lot more than he'd looked in the second before he'd put a mask up and made a joke. He gritted his teeth and tried to remind himself that he _wanted _this. Ziva getting back to less jumpy and less scary and less tentative was good. And it was. But he'd thought she might include him in her new … view or whatever the hell it was … on life. Apparently not. At least not anymore than he'd really been involved before and he'd expected more. Oh he'd expected more. He'd thought that movie nights where she fell asleep on his couch and dinners where she cooked for him had meant he'd be getting a front row ticket to her life.

Well apparently not. He wanted to be mad so badly it was eating him alive but it wasn't like he could be mad about it because she was damn _happier. _And he had wanted that. He had wanted that. This. Wanted this. Ziva getting better. He'd wanted this. Tony kicked the concrete on the sidewalk again and decided to walk another loop around the Navy Yard; he hadn't cooled off yet, and he needed to be cooled off before he went back inside. The concrete still didn't give and it _still _hurt his foot. This sucked. Bad. She'd revealed a piece of herself, laid it out for all to see and at the same time tucked everything else so deeply back inside that he'd stood reeling and mad as hell at her as everyone else had just oozed happy hormones. All because he'd _thought _he'd secured a place in her life. With her somewhere. Something. Some time, anything.

Wouldn't be the first time he'd screwed up. Not the last either. His track record sucked. Ziva was getting better sure, but she'd just royally screwed his healing process all to hell. Which wouldn't be so problematic if he didn't want her to be happy and normal and settled here, but he did. Did really badly so he was witnessing a small war going on in his head. On one side stood the Confederates, all geared up and fighting for Ziva. On the other stood the Yankees, in blue and willing to do whatever it took for Ziva. There would be the root of the problem; everyone was fighting for Ziva. For Ziva to heal, for Ziva to be … in some strange, twisted, small capacity if that was all he could have … his. And he was tugging Ziva this way and that and she wasn't going at all and he just didn't know what to do with all of this.

It had been going so good. So effortless. Easy and simple. Which wasn't them at all. So he didn't know why he had expected for it to continue. But he had. And no he was reaping the benefits of that brilliant decision. Or non-decision. He didn't really ever remember deciding to do much of anything with or about Ziva. Kind of a knee-jerk reaction usually. He needed a new plan. A new idea. A new outlook. A new something. Anything. He pushed his hand through his hair and kept walking. This wasn't working. Time for a change. Because she'd all but told him to butt out and that it wasn't his business and she'd meant it too. To think he'd been in such a cheery, happy-go-lucky mood an hour ago. Offering to get lunch _and _turn paperwork in to Vance. The pigeons he'd thrown the rest of his sandwich to on the last loop were still having a field day over the bread. He hoped they enjoyed it. It'd kind of lost its draw after Ziva's news.

"_Ziva!" Abby's chair spun sideways as she shoved away from the bench top. The back hit two tables before she came to a stop three feet in front of Ziva. "Oh I'm so glad you came to see me!" Her palms clapped together as she grinned and sent the chair spinning in a circle. Like a freaking top. _

"_We brought you lunch Abby," Ziva quietly said, taking small steps back as Abby continued to twirl. Pigtails flying out to the side, feet tucked around the metal … pretty funny sight. Ziva's elbow in his side made him cough. Jeeze she hit hard. He needed to teach her how to hit with a teasing intention. If she ever did that. He wasn't sure. Probably against the ninja, bad-ass code. _

"_Yah Abs, lunch. Pizza. Your favorite. From Gino's." The spinning stopped and she wobbled sideways for half a second. _

"_Woah! That makes me really dizzy I must be seeing Ziva in double and projecting Tony onto one of the Ziva's because Tony never comes to see me anymore because he no longer loves me." It was hard to keep the grin off his face. _

"_I still love you Abs. What are you talking about?" _

"_You're never down here anymore," pout and scoot in the rolling chair. Ziva took another step back. "I didn't think you were alive. Bert's been having to watch movies with me and his commentary isn't as good as yours." _

"_I thought Bert was a girl," Ziva, with a very confused look on her face. _

"_He's been genetically modified. Every few weeks he becomes a she then she becomes a he then he becomes a she then back again and on and on." _

"_Abby I do not think-" _

"_-it is possible Ziva! There are worms that change sexes all the time! I can show you if you want all I've got to do is just pull up one little article and it'll just take a second." Tony caught the back of her chair before she could go and pull up whatever article it was. Ziva was sending him 'help' looks and he'd never been immune to those eyes of hers. One freaking eyelash batted and he was at her beck and call. Begging to be her little, frilly, yappy, lap dog. Ah, hell, who cared. She could just keep batting those eyelashes, it made him so damn happy not much else really registered. _

"_Uh Abby, I don't think so we're kind of here for-" but he never got to actually tell her what they were there for. _

"_I already sent the results up to Gibbs. Ziva was right. Big bad marine, has a big bad temper and no way to channel it properly." _

"_So it was the marine! I told you Tony." Great. Another point to Ziva David. Just what he needed, more stuff to boost her confidence, actually. That was good. Now that he actually thought about it and the smile on her face … definitely good. But just for appearances sake he had to whine. _

"_Zee-vah, you thought it was the marine just because he managed to get a punch in." Pursed lips. Little frown. Sparkling eyes. She wasn't really mad at him. _

"_At least I did not end up on my backside." Oh. She had gone there. _

"_Only because I lost my footing!" _

"_Because you were busy looking down my shirt." _

"_You were all wet, you really can't blame a guy for-" _

"_Woah. Stop. What happened. I'm hearing fight that Ziva got punched in, Tony fell down in, water that made Tony stare, how did you two survive this fight? And why aren't you buried under mountains of paperwork while Gibbs figures out a way to make a head slap machine for each of you?" Tony winced and turned, fully expecting Gibbs to be standing right behind him ready to deal the head slap of a lifetime. Huh. Gibbsdar must be misfiring again. _

"_It was nothing Abby, just a-" Tony cut her off. _

"_-chasing a suspect down thing. Big bad marine dives in a fricking pool. So what does little miss super ninja do? Dive in after him. I go around cause no way I'm getting this suit wet and-" _

"_-and the man still got out of the water before he'd made it around the pool and before I'd managed to get out of the … water toy thing he threw at me, that was when he punched me off course. It wasn't a very good punch though, I doubt it is going to bruise even. So then Tony-" _

"_-was first of all very mad that _someone _got herself hit and then very surprised that the guy's gun still worked after being underwater. Then Ziva pulls herself out of the pool, all wet and drippy, and doing the Bond girl routine without even knowing she's-" _

"_-I know what the Bond girl routine is! We watched that movie!" _

"_Movies. Plural. More than one," he cut his eyes at her as she stepped away from his side so that she could yell in his face. "Anyways, Bond girl routine and yeah I looked down your shirt, take it as a compliment, guy starts firing I lose my footing and sat down-" _

"_-on top of me." Abby giggled and they both suspended their staring contest to turn and look at her for a second. _

"_Let me get this straight. You were chasing a suspect. Ziva went swimming and got hit with an inner tube, big bad marine with a big bad gun starts firing and Tony sits on top of Ziva because he's distracted with looking down her shirt?" He met Ziva's eyes before nodding. Permission on that one was important. She was already somewhat ticked at him, or maybe not, he wasn't really sure, about the whole shirt thing. Good thing he hadn't mentioned it was see through and he was doing a lot more than looking down it. Just looking at her had been quite a treat, never mind the down the shirt bit. That was more a cover story so that he didn't have to tell her that whatever bra she was wearing was practically see through. God bless the manufacturer. _

"_Left out some of the details, but got the general plot yeah." More giggles and now he was rolling his eyes and sharing a smile with Ziva. _

"_You should consider doing a movie. Or a TV series. It'd be great. I know! Maybe they'll make McGee's book a movie! Wouldn't that be great?" He couldn't tamp down the response to frown and shake his head quick enough and Abby turned to glare at him. "Tony it would be great wouldn't it?" Steely tone, play along and don't get yelled at. That was always the approach with this Abby. _

"_Of course it would Abby," Ziva muttered and finally turned away from him to look at her. "Would you like to hear a surprise?" He reached out to tap Ziva's wrist in thanks and her fingers caught his thumb. She squeezed and he grinned. The grin turned into a grimace when the grip got a little too tight. She eased up when he shifted just a hair closer to her and he grinned again. The space thing was becoming less of a deal. Less than a foot away from her and behind her, it wouldn't have been something she would have allowed a week ago. Progress. Slow, painful steps, but progress. He could handle that. As long as there was some, he could handle whatever pace she wanted. _

"_I love surprises!" _

"_I'm getting a piano for my apartment." And she sounded so incredibly delighted over that fact that it made him grin too. But then he realized that he'd known nothing about this and for some reason he felt like he should have known. Like it was just his right to know. So he opened his mouth and questioned her and instantly wished he hadn't. _

"_You're getting a piano?" She dropped his thumb and turned to look at him, a frown on her face. She was right to be confused, his tone was way off for just a casual question. With her head turned sideways and her eyes asking all sorts of questions she answered anyways. _

"_Yes. I had one as a child. My mother taught Tali and I to play, Tali was always much better than I, but I did enjoy it." _

"_Need help getting it in your apartment?" She shook her head before he'd even finished his sentence. _

"_No." And that had hurt more than he cared to admit, because he'd thought that she would say yes. Yes come help me move my piano in, but just like that she closed that door. Slammed it really and he stood reeling just a bit because he didn't have a clue what to do with that. _

"_I learned as a kid too you know, I wouldn't break it or anything." Abby half chuckled at that but he was so far past ignoring Abby he hardly heard the noise split the silence that had settled between them. Ziva looked up at him, met his eyes and didn't blink when she spoke. _

"_I _am_ fine Tony. I do not need your help with this." And he'd snapped. Blink. Everything he'd been working for and at and towards was gone. Blink. Ziva was placing her hand on his shoulder and giving him a small smile. Like he should think this was a good thing. Blink. Ziva no longer needed him. Blink. It wasn't a stretch to translate that into no longer wanted him. Blink. Her hand dropped and she turned to face Abby. Blink. He turned and walked out of the lab, even as Ziva called Tony to his back. Blink. The elevator doors shut and he punched the wall hard. Blink. His knuckles were bleeding. Blink. He couldn't feel it. _

Tony dropped down hard on the curb. This was ridiculous. The whole fine thing had felt like a sucker punch itself. Because she certainly had meant it. But somehow he'd gotten so used to her being fine with having him around more than he had been originally. Somehow he'd thought that maybe that meant he'd get to stay that way. And he'd wanted to so badly. He'd liked this. The movies, the falling asleep with her feet in his lap or her head on his shoulder. The tiny touches she gave him sometimes. The smiles that she didn't really show anyone else. He'd loved it. Basked in it, thrived and healed in it. And now-now, he didn't even know what. It didn't help that there was some part of him that got it.

She was independent. God knew he had half fallen in love with that independence originally. The devil may care attitude and the confidence that made her that much more attractive. It would only make sense that she would eventually get that back. But he just hadn't expected it to be so soon and he had hoped that when she did she'd somehow include him anyways. Make him the one exception to whatever independent rule she had. He pressed his face into his hands. Why the hell hadn't he seen this little twist coming?

Losing Ziva to Ziva. The laugh that came out of his mouth was sardonic and twisted. Of course that would be how it worked. The one thing he couldn't battle against, couldn't argue with and sure as hell couldn't beat up. But that was exactly what was happening. She revealed something about her childhood, and at the same time sealed up the rest of herself into such a tight little container that he wasn't even allowed to come over and see the piano and it just made him so freaking angry. Because he wanted to go see that piano. He wanted to go help her put the damn thing up and yah he wanted to sit and watch her play. He heard the footsteps coming his way, but didn't bother to look up because he figured they weren't really headed towards him, only in the general direction. Apparently he was wrong.

Whoever sat down next to him didn't say anything. And he didn't bother looking up because if it was Ziva he really couldn't handle it right now, he had to get his self back together and his new game plan in place before he even attempted to be normal around her, and if it wasn't Ziva, well he didn't really want to talk to them.

"You managed to get Ziva and Abby upset." And that wasn't someone he had expected at all. Out of pure habit he lifted his head and sat up straight.

"Boss."

"And when you get Ziva and Abby upset at the same time they both come crying to me and I have to walk all the way around the damn Navy Yard to find you to find out 'what's wrong with Tony'? Better be something wrong." Gibbs tipped his coffee back and placed his elbows on his knees. Tony mirrored his position and sighed.

"Ziva's getting a piano." Gibbs' eyebrows went up and he stared at him for half a second.

"Sounds like a good thing to me."

"It is."

"So what's the problem Dinozzo?" And he was sure if he had anyone else to talk to about this stuff he would have, but as it was Gibbs was as close as he really had to a father figure and his friends consisted of the people inside the building currently grinning at Ziva.

"Won't let me help," he mumbled.

"So?"

"So? So I-" And he broke off because he really didn't know what to say. What did he say? So? I really thought she was going to let me be, I don't know, part of her life? So? I really wanted to be kind of special to her? In the end he settled on something less desperate sounding and way more understated. "So I wanted to."

"This is all because of a piano?" The look he was getting now was definitely one that said 'you're nuts'.

"She's pushing me away."

"Because she doesn't need to lean on anyone anymore." Tony snorted. Thanks Boss, sum up what took him twenty minutes to figure out in two seconds.

"Well I liked the leaning. Made me feel …" he winced, "wanted."

"Sounds like a personal problem." Gibbs pushed to his feet and Tony stayed on the ground wondering if this won the award for worst pep talk ever. He felt even more crummy than before.

"It is."

"That's what I thought. What isn't a personal problem is Abby confused and Ziva upset because you walked out on them. Go fix that." He turned, walked ten feet to toss his empty coffee cup and then turned back around to look at him. "Now Dinozzo."

"Right on it Boss," he mumbled, pushing off the ground. God he felt old all of a sudden. Ridiculously, horribly old.

"Tony."

"Yah Boss." A hand settled heavy on his shoulder, pushing him towards the building he had run out of so quickly. It still seemed smothering and just a little too much.

"It'll work out."

"I sure hope so." Tony rolled his shoulders as he walked and reminded himself of the one redeeming factor in this whole mess; she was at least happy. Happy without him, but the happy was something. He'd just have to work on the whole without him part. Somehow. The damn pigeons were still picking at his sandwich. His stomach felt so sick he wasn't sure how he'd managed the few bites that he had. Gibbs held the door open for him. Abby frowned at him when she saw him. Ziva turned. Blinked at him. And then smiled. A smile that looked only a hair tentative and unsure. Probably because of him. The smile he tugged up for her in response felt like it was coming from somewhere around his ankles and hurt like hell to put on his face. He didn't want to smile, he wanted to go get drunk so that when he cried he could blame it on the alcohol.

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**[] Up next? A drunk Tony I believe. Despite the somber mood here, I do hope you enjoyed. I shall see you next chapter, probably sometime this weekend or early next week at the latest. :) **


	11. Ziva Kiss

**[] I know, incredibly long time since an update. But it is now here. With a very depressed Tony and an ending that ... well you shall see. **

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Copper. Element number … something another on the table thing. The two letter abbreviation was something he'd had to know in high school and maybe college. He wasn't sure. And he was even less sure about what the two letter abbreviation was which kind of sucked because he was pretty sure that 'what is the two letter abbreviation for copper' would be a great trivia question. Not that he knew of anytime that he would be participating in a trivia contest anytime soon. But still. It was the principle of the thing. And the fact that for some reason he was thinking about copper while he was sitting at a bar getting as piss-ass drunk as he possibly could, might have been funny at some point, but it sure as hell wasn't tonight.

Not that he'd think much was funny tonight. Everything just kind of sucked currently. The beer going down his throat, and it didn't burn any longer which was kind of disappointing because feeling the burn sounded like a good idea, the bartender that had taken his keys and was now refusing to give them back, the fact that he didn't even feel like flirting with the hot chick, he wasn't even really sure he thought she was hot anymore, he would have thought she was hot at some point in the past though, it all sucked. Sucky, sucking, suckage. And why was he thinking about copper again? Oh. The blood. Blood tasted like copper. Or that's what everyone always said, he'd never actually tasted copper and couldn't really compare the two.

He was bleeding. His finger was dripping little droppy, drippy, dropping, dribbling drops onto the table. And he couldn't really remember how he'd actually hurt it. A bottle he'd broken maybe? Yah that seemed right. He'd toppled one of his empty bottles at some point and shards and glittery stuff that had made the lights look all fragmented and funny. Sparkly. Lots of sparkles. He had a napkin somewhere, but he couldn't really feel the blood and he liked looking at it. Red against the scared wood. Red against his white shirt. Red against the skin of his hands and the white of his nails. Red like the sweater she'd worn today. Red like her lips and tongue and nope. Not getting on that train of thought. Going on that train. Getting off. Going down. He couldn't remember what the real phrase was. Huh. Maybe he was a little bit drunk. Maybe that was why the bartending guy had taken his keys and wouldn't give them back.

Didn't matter. He didn't want to go home. Tony jerked his arm sideways when someone touched him. It took him a long time to look away from the blood drops and up at whoever was trying to get his attention. Blond. Boobs. Butt. Busty. Blond. Beautiful. No that B word didn't fit. This chick wasn't beautiful. She was hot, sure. But he was starting to like more than hot. God he was getting old when he started realizing there was a difference between beautiful and hot. And he was getting even older when he realized that he knew that he was realizing that. When exactly had that happened again? Oh yeah. Ziva. Desert. Sleeping. Hiding. Screaming. Nightmares. Paris. Pianos. But before that too. Phone sex. Knives. Guns. Partners. Undercover. Swimsuits. Ships. Cocktail dresses. Maybe just Ziva was enough of an explanation.

She'd once said something about girls and men and him after all. Something that his mind didn't quite want to remember and why was he thinking about this anyways? The blond. Right. Blond. He met her eyes and she smiled. He coughed. Bad smile.

"You drinking alone?"

"Yep," no use wasting words on blonds.

"Someone must have canceled on you. You don't look like the kind of guy that usually drinks alone." The line was delivered with a look he would have once found incredibly interesting. It just made him shift in his seat tonight. Or this morning. The time wasn't something he had been paying any attention to.

"No date."

"Really? How many women did you make cry to arrange that?" A wink from her sparkly pink eyelid.

"None." She leaned in and pressed her breasts against his shoulder. He moved farther backwards.

"Can I buy you a drink then? Us singles have to stick together."

"Not tonight."

"Is that a proposition for another night?" It took him way too long to figure out what proposition meant. He shook his head as his brain worked at it.

"Too subtle," he mumbled to himself. "I meant not tonight or any other night. As in not interested." The blond yanked herself and her cleavage back as though she had been burned.

"Fine." It took her ten seconds to stomp across the room and find another target. Jeeze. Way to get rid of a really nice prospect for a one night stand Dinozzo. Could the chick have been anymore obvious? She would have been great, a good pity fuck and done. He wouldn't have had to remember her name. Hell, she probably wouldn't have even cared if he mumbled someone else's name while he was inside her with his eyes closed imagining someone else's face altogether. No awkward morning after. No flowers. No jewelry. No nice dinners. No dates. No time or talking. And at one point that would have been great. Ideal. Just exactly what he wanted. But damn it not anymore. He wanted to spend the time. That was terrifying. And so stupid because he didn't do that. Except apparently he did now.

He dropped his head into his hands and missed the first two times he tried. When his forehead finally did hit his palms he jerked it right back up because closing his eyes made everything spin and tilt and do all sorts of funny things with gravity. Eyes open. Good plan. The clock on the wall said twelve. He'd been here for close to three hours. Drank god-knew how many beers after the really great shots he'd started out with, and still hadn't quite worked out the whole damn reason he was drinking alone on a Friday night. Who would have thought he'd have girl problems. No he didn't have girl problems because he didn't actually have the girl. He just had problems in general. Lots of problems that he really didn't know how to figure out.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he nearly fell off the stool. It took some tugging to get himself sitting in the chair right. He dropped his phone on the counter twice before he got it open and the right way up so that he was talking into the right end.

"'Ello?" Silence. Tick tock, clock is moving. More blood from his finger, he wiped it on his jeans this time and stared at the smear as though it really was super interesting. Maybe it was. He wasn't really sure. More silence. He needed to get Abby to trace the hang ups and make them stop. Or McGee. He wasn't sure who did that sort of stuff at this hour and with this much bubbly stuff floating around inside of him. He felt liquidy. All liquidy. Funny word. Wasn't a word, but still, funny word.

"Are you drunk?" Oh God. No freaking way. Did he really deserve this? He hadn't figured all this out yet. He didn't need to- "Tony?" Apparently he was going to.

"No."

"No what?" Ziva sounded only a little bit ticked and a tiny part of his brain was trying to figure out what she was doing up so late.

"Not drunk."

"You are." And that definitely sounded accusatory.

"Nuh-uh." The bartender raised his eyebrows when he walked past and saw the blood on the counter. Tony raised his hand and the guy just shook his head. Well yeah. He was the one bleeding. He wasn't going to start any bar fights with his bad back, his sore knee and Gibbs the person listed as his emergency contact. Old. Old. Old.

"Yes."

"Nope."

"Ye- Tony. I am not going to argue with you." He couldn't care less currently.

"Right." More silence. He thought about copper and blood again and sucked on his finger just to see. It really did taste funky. Sweet and sour. Sour patch kids. Chicken at that Chinese place Ziva really liked.

"Where are you?" Change the line of questioning. It took his brain way too long to catch up to the new concepts. Except they weren't concepts at all. He sniffed and rubbed his hand across his nose. Running. Probably from the whole crying bit. The tequila had been really strong. That was why there had been tears. Least that's what he was telling everyone.

"Bar."

"Yes Tony. Which one." Demanding tone. He needed to just answer. 'Cept he didn't really remember which bar it was.

"Uh- I'm at-"

"Donovan's." The bartender muttered and Tony blew him a kiss that got an eyeroll.

"Thanks. Donovan's."

"For what?"

"Huh?"

"What are you thanking me for?"

"Not you. Bartender. Bart. Bart the Bartender. Like Big Bird with an 'A' instead of an 'E'."

"What?"

"Kids show. Sesame Street. Cookie Monster. Grouch in his trashcan. Ernie and someone another. And Big Bird. Or not Big Bird. Was Big Bird named Burt? Or was that the other guy with Ernie? And was it an 'E'? Maybe an 'U' now that I think 'bout it. Yeah, U. Buuurt. Bart. Beert. U. Burt. Sounds right."

"Tony."

"Mmm."

"Tony."

"Isn't here right now. Leave a message at the beep. Beeep."

"Tony."

"What the hell do you want Ziva?" Long pause. Way longer than the last pauses. And oh so terrifically awkward and charged and he didn't know if electricity could pass through the telephone lines or not but he was definitely feeling her eyes boring into him. And more pausing, more silence. No words. He hiccupped and heard her sigh.

"I am coming to get you."

"No. Don't. I don't want-" But she'd already hung up and all he was listening to was crackly silence now. Great. Just who he wanted to see. Ziva. Actually he did want to see her. He really wanted to see her. Really, really wanted to see her but more importantly wanted her to want to see him. Wanted her to need to see him. Back to the whole damn reason he was so drunk. Need. Want. He wasn't used to using those words or thinking about those words or saying them or wanting to say them or anything even associated with those words.

Okay want might have been used once or twice. But not in the context he was using it now. No, definitely not in the way he was thinking about it now. He had wanted sex with the blond. Now he just wanted Ziva to want him _around_. God he was getting mushy and had about five seconds to figure out what to do about the whole Ziva-issue before Ziva herself got here. Maybe three with the way she drove. Two and a half cause it took him a really really long time to blink right now. Options. Options. Think Dinozzo. He had driven. So. Keys. Not in his pocket. No because they were with the bartender. Was his name Bart? Actually he had no idea.

"Hey," Bart the Bartender turned to look at him. "Hey could you hand me my keys?" He did his best impression of sober, a really hard one to pull off at the moment and the guy walked away from the red head he had been chatting up and over to him.

"You kidding me man? No way in hell. You need to get someone to come pick your drunk ass up."

"Yah, she's on her way."

"Sound happier. She that'll come get you when you're drunk sounds like a good thing." Tony didn't comment on that. Plan A was apparently out. Plan B consisted of hiding in the men's bathroom and he knew from experience that she didn't mind coming into men's bathrooms. Plan C was the women's bathroom and that didn't even sound smart in his head. Plan D was … well a taxi he supposed but she would freaking _kill _him if he did that and didn't tell her about it and if he told her about it he'd have to call her and talk to her and he definitely did not want to do that. Wait. Maybe he did. He did want to talk to her. He really did. He liked talking to her.

God this was confusing. Ziva. Ziva. Ziva. Ziva.

"Ziva."

"This is not your usual hangup Tony." Red sweater. His brain stopped right there. Red sweater and tight jeans and boots and her hair down and curly and she looked so good he wanted to just curl up and whimper. What? Whimper? What the hell was wrong with him, he was mad at her. Wasn't he? He didn't have a clue really. Not a clue. Oh well.

"Tony," she sharply said and he snapped his head up. He hadn't even realized he'd been elevator eyeing her. But could she really blame him? She slipped her jacket off and slid onto the stool beside him. The jacket got folded in her lap and her hands went to the beer he'd been working at, on, for, something. She took a sip and handed it back, nose wrinkling. Kinda cute.

"This is disgusting."

"Can't taste it," he mumbled and pressed the bottle to his lips. Some part of him recognized that her lips had been there just a few seconds ago, but he brushed that aside because he didn't need to be thinking about Ziva's lips while he was drunk.

"Then you have definitely had enough." The bottle was taken away and replaced with a glass of water. If he wasn't concentrating so hard on the fact that he could almost see down her sweater if he sat up really, really tall he might have found the magic trick kind of cool.

"Stop staring Tony. You will not see anything."

"But it's definitely worth dying over. I don't know if I ever told you that. But definitely. Definitely. Definitely." He saw her sigh and almost wished he could take the words back, but then she sat up taller and gestured to his water glass.

"Drink. I will take you home."

"Don't want to go home."

"Have you paid your tab?" He ignored her but sipped the water just the same because it was making his head feel just a little bit better. And his head actually hurt now that he thought about it.

"He's good. Want his keys?" Bart the Bartender had betrayed him and suddenly Ziva was leaning forwards and smiling and he was having to tamp down the urge to smack the damn guy. Forget keeping him totally filled up on alcohol all night, the man was now only a couple feet from touching _his _Ziva. And she wasn't even his. But he so wanted her to be.

"I'd love them." She waited until the guy handed over the keys before she leaned back, turned off the seduction eyes and turned right back to him. And that made him feel so much better about his status in life that he downed the rest of the water and pushed off the barstool.

"Ready." The look she gave him was either exasperated or endearing, he couldn't figure out which. When she led him to his car and opened the passenger door on his car for him, and then buckled the seatbelt in his car for him he turned his head sideways.

"How'd you get here?"

"I took a cab."

"At this hour?" Her eyebrows went really really high up. So high he started wondering if eyebrows could push up his convertible top. Maybe not so much. Though it was Ziva. He wasn't sure there was anything Ziva couldn't do.

"You honestly think I couldn't handle a cab driver? Tony they are tragically obese."

"Morbidly," he corrected automatically even though it was kind of funny. She frowned and started his car. "Go easy on it."

"But it is tragic that they are so fat. And I promise to ride … it easy." He closed his eyes and let his head loll back. She chuckled at her own joke even as he focused on inhaling and exhaling properly because for some reason when she made jokes like that he had a hard time doing anything other than staring, gaping, gasping, and undressing her with his eyes. Lots of the undressing with the eyes. Lots and lots and the red sweater and the jeans and the boots and the hair and he really wanted to press his lips into her neck all of a sudden. The car swerved and he hit the doorframe. Effectively cutting off the image of her skin beneath his lips and his hands in her hair.

"Watch it there."

"Sorry."

"You're apologizing for your driving?" She gave him a small smile.

"I do not want you losing your cookies in your car." And that was 0 out of 3 on the Americanisms for the night.

"Did you get your piano in?"

"Of course." The rest of the car ride was in silence as he thought about why exactly he'd brought up the whole piano thing. Really Dinozzo? So smart, bring up the one topic that made him sore, had gotten him into this whole mess and was the reason he had gotten himself so terrifically drunk. He needed … sleep. Sleep, lots of sleep would be good.

"Let's go Tony." Ziva half drug him up to his apartment, and eventually even allowed him to drape his arm around her shoulders on the pretense of drunkenly staggering down the hall. Or maybe he really was drunkenly staggering down the hall and the pretense was that he was pretending to drunkenly stagger so that he could drape his arm around her shoulders and oh now she was reaching to wrap her arm around his waste so that she could help hold him up and maybe that was a pretense too and he was now so confused on what was and was not pretense and what was and was not real that he was just really really lost.

She deposited him on his couch and took off down his hall and he thought nothing of it. His head was killing him now though, and the room was spinning lots. Tony toed his shoes off and watched them roll underneath the coffee table. Spinning. Spinning. Lots of spinning.

"Lean back." The command was accompanied by a shove to his shoulder that made him lean back whether he wanted to or not. Then something cold started touching his face along with something hot and it took him a good ten seconds to figure out that hot was her hand and cold was a washcloth.

"What're you doing?"

"You have blood on your face."

"Oh."

"Should I be worried?" Her thumb brushed across his cheekbone and he sighed happily. Nope. No worrying. Totally happy.

"Just my hand. Cut it. On a beer bottle."

"You should be more careful." There was something wrong with that and if she'd just quit touching his face he might be able to figure out what it was. Breath. Concentrate on how bad his head hurts. Not on how good her fingers feel on his face.

"Why do you care?" Her hands moved from his face as though she had been burned or found out that his face was radioactive or something.

"I do not want to lose you Tony." He blinked and turned to stare at her. She was looking at him, a frown above her brow, her whole face confused. Even her posture. He swallowed and closed his eyes again.

"Tony, what is _wrong_?"

"Nothing."

"You do not get drunk because of nothing." He grunted and she moved. To his coffee table. And sat on top of his TV Guide with her legs crossed. That did nothing for his concentration whatsoever.

"I just kind of got used to you … you know having me around."

"What?"

"God Ziva. I mean we're all movie nights and sleeping in the same bed and calling each other and talking and then all of a sudden you don't need me anymore. And I really liked being needed by you. I got used to you wanting me around. And it hurts like hell that you don't anymore. So yah, I needed a drink. Lots of drinks. Because I don't have a clue how to-" He pressed his fingers to his temples and groaned. "I didn't mean to tell you that. Any of it."

Ziva turned her head sideways and propped her chin up on her palm.

"Perhaps … perhaps I am not used to wanting someone around." He blinked. Slowly, because that was the only speed he was moving at currently and she was still sitting there staring at him.

"What?"

"Since you will most likely not remember this in the morning-"

"-I will too."

"As I said Tony. I am not … it is odd … I do not usually want people around." And those words definitely sounded like they were being forced from her mouth by some ancient Mossad torture technique that he didn't even want to think about.

"And you think I'm used to wanting people to want me around?" She chuckled and he couldn't help but grin.

"No. No I suppose not. You should go to bed."

"It isn't that late." Ziva shifted forwards and he half thought she was going to touch him, but then she drew back and crossed her arms and he tried not to feel disappointed. Because that really was silly.

"You will feel even more terrible in the morning if you do not sleep."

"Do I at least get a goodnight kiss?" Tony said it in jest, with his elbows on his knees and his eyes half closed because he was actually really tired, but when she half gasped and jerked just a little too abruptly he choked on his own saliva. Good God, she was actually _considering _it. And before he'd gotten that through his brain she was pushing off his coffee table and coming to stand in front of him.

And then she was leaning over him just a little bit and looking at him with something that looked a lot like true fondness.

"I didn-" Her lips were on his in his next breath, effectively stopping any words he might have wanted to say. Soft. Warm. And then she pulled back. It had been no more than a brush, not even a real kiss, a kiss he'd give a sister or an elderly aunt but he was pretty sure the earth had shifted. Fallen apart. Something catastrophic had definitely happened. His fingers went to his lips on their own and like an idiot he sat there touching his lips trying to make sure she'd actually kissed him. By the time he realized what he was doing and jerked his hand down it was too late and she was already smiling just a little bit. Idiot. Idiot. Like a kid in high school. Puberty and college and idiot.

"Goodnight Tony," Ziva whispered, still close to his face. She gave him a hard pat, or a soft slap he'd never really been able to figure out which, to his cheek and then left, firmly closing the door on her way out. He blinked. She'd kissed him. If he could count it as that. And it certainly hadn't been anything like the kisses when they'd been undercover, or selling a cover, or covering, or anything having to do with covers at all.

An actual Ziva-kiss. So much better than any of those other kisses. Bed. She'd said to go to bed. He'd do that. Yep. Bed sounded good. In the morning he'd call her. And ask her if he could listen to her play her piano. Though why he felt better about the need, want mess tonight wasn't something he wanted to dwell on for too long. Probably the alcohol. It was always the alcohol. But a Ziva-kiss. God a Ziva-kiss. He peeled his shirt off and fell into bed with his pants still on. He'd wake up in the morning and go for coffee. Only to find a sticky note on the top telling him that '_Coffee tastes horrible the second time, water will help your headache much more. If that isn't enough motive … I have planted a bomb in your coffee. Open the lid and it goes off. Water Tony. Water.' _He grinned even as he ran to the toilet to lose his cookies.

* * *

**[] Kiss. Hehe. I can just see their first 'real kiss' happening like this. Ziva just kissing him. No big deal. And it isn't. Tony, albeit a drunk Tony, does love it certainly, but it's Tony, what can we expect? **


End file.
